Second Degree
by CLK
Summary: After Season 10's 4 solution something unexpected brings Harm and Mac closer. Does not follow the rest of season 10.
1. Chapters 1 thru 10

**Title: Second Degree**

**Timeline: **Written Mid Season 10 after Christmas Episode before the news of DJE broke– Does not follow season events after Christmas. First posted March 2005

**Summary: **Something unexpected brings Harm and Mac closer

**Chapter One**

**JAG Headquarters**

"What part of 'no' are you having so much trouble with?" Harm barked at Bud as the two lawyers exited the courtroom.

"Sir, it's the best offer your client is going to get," Bud sighed, frustration clearly evident in his voice. "Even you can't pull enough rabbits out of your bag of tricks for the court martial to turn out any better than the Article 32. Ten years confinement is very generous."

Stopping to take a deep breath, "Okay, Bud. I'll propose it to my client, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you." Harm smiled apologetically before entering his office and closing the door loudly behind him.

"No improvement I gather?" Sturgis commented to Bud, frowning at Harm's closed door.

"No, sir. I sure wish Colonel MacKenzie would hurry up and come back. With every passing day, his disposition gets more and more...challenging."

Mac had been in Iraq for almost a month. Stepping in for the field JAGwho had slipped coming out of the makeshift showers and broken his leg in two places. They needed an alternate senior JAG on short notice, and Mac's language skills placed her top on the list of contenders until a permanent replacement could be found.

What was originally supposed to have been a two week TAD was now crawling toward four weeks, and more and more, Harm was beginning to resemble a bear awoken too early from hibernation.

**Harm's office**

**Same time**

Sitting down at his desk, Harm immediately clicked his flashing yellow icon. A smile instantly replaced the furrowed brows when he spotted not one, but two emails from Mac.

'Hi Sailor, I laughed so hard at your last email my side still hurts. Stop worrying about me so much. Rest assured, the only dangerous place they let me anywhere near is the showers, LOL. And I have no intention of breaking my leg. Honestly, Harm, you know how they protect their Jags around here. I'm probably safer than you are. Speaking of which, how's the Beltway been lately?'

Grinning from ear to ear, Harm read and laughed at the rest of her email and quickly scanned through the next one. This wasn't the first time he and Mac had been separated by a TAD assignment, but he couldn't remember ever missing her as much as he did now.

Since Mattie had left, he and Mac had been spending more and more time together. Then she had that horrible accident on Christmas Eve and they seemed to finally connect. For the first time in a long time, Harm allowed himself to think that having Mac in his life could be more than a dream. Their friendship was back on track and they seemed to be growing closer then they'd ever been when the General assigned Mac to Iraq. To make matters worse, the senior staff members were more than overworked trying to keep up in her absence.

Harm knew he was being a little gruff… okay, a lot gruff, but he missed Mac so damn much! Never before had he felt such empathy for the military families left behind. Taking a deep sigh, he hit the reply button.

**Somewhere in Iraq**

**1500 hours**

"Colonel Howell would like to see you ASAP, ma'am," the baby faced gunny announced.

Mac couldn't help but wonder; were these men all really that young, or had she really just gotten that old? "Right away, Gunny. Thank you."

She hit send and closed her laptop. Military communication had certainly improved since she first joined the Corps. As much as she loved being a marine, she didn't want to think about how much lonelier she'd feel if she couldn't keep in touch with Harm as often as email allowed.

"You sent for me, sir?" Mac stood at attention.

"At ease. We've had more trouble reported at the prison. Some DIA officials are reporting that recently captured insurgents are complaining of brutal treatment." Colonel Howell stood almost six foot four, had sandy brown hair, and the deepest blue eyes Mac had ever seen. He also had a wife and four children, not that it mattered to Mac. Her heart belonged to only one military man, and he most definitely was not a marine.

"I really don't want to do this, but I don't have a choice. I've got no one else available who can communicate with the detainees." Howell really disliked the idea of sending Mac to interview the prisoners. It wasn't so much the prison that worried him, it was transportation to the prison. He'd lost three more men to insurgent ambushes. He really didn't want to have to write a letter home to whoever was waiting for Mac. "The sooner we investigate this and submit a report, the better off we'll all be."

"Understood, sir."

"Mac." Much like Admiral Chegwidden, Ken Howell reverted to Mac's name instead of rank when he had something important to convey. "No heroics, please. I don't want to send you home horizontally. Just interview the people involved and get back here."

"I'll do my best." Mac flashed a half smile. Ever since she'd ridden shotgun with the Gunny to check out some rumors of Al-Qaeda hiding out in a village not far from the encampment, the Colonel had been keeping a closer eye on her.

Colonel Howell respected Mac as a marine, but his grandma's southern upbringing just didn't mesh with the idea of a female so close to combat. Hell, who was he kidding? He hated sending any of these kids out to patrol the streets. Looking down at his watch, he did some fast calculating; it was1300 hours, and a two hour drive to camp would put them there at 1500. She'd have to get all the information she needed in only thirty minutes in order to make it back to camp before sunset. No, even she's not that good.

"You'll leave first thing in the morning, 0700." He had to send her soon, but the least he could do was make sure they traveled in daylight hours.

**JAG Headquarters**

**0800 hours (1600 Baghdad)**

"We're expecting the new attorneys sometime this week. Lt. Vukovic will sit second chair with you on the MacDonald case," the General glanced at Sturgis.

"Lt. Mayfield will assist you with the Denning court martial." His eyes briefly shifted towards Bud.

Harm remained perfectly still in his seat, even though his insides were squirming around. It was usually the General's practice to address the most senior officer first. He wasn't sure what to make of this delay.

"Commander, that leaves us with you."

"Sir?" Brother, this man may be shorter than Harm in stature, but his glare could make a SEAL nervous.

"We've had more trouble in Iraq." Cresswell was momentarily taken aback at the obvious blanching on Harm's face. Coates was right, he wasn't going to find two more impassioned people.

"There's been another report of detainee abuse. The Director of the Defense Intelligence Agency has sent a letter to some of the big brass at the Pentagon. They're demanding an immediate investigation. If we want to cut this one off at the pass I'm going to need my best people out there handling it. Colonel Howell has ordered Colonel MacKenzie to do the initial inquiry. She's not going to have enough time to devote to this and keep up with the constant changes in the ROEs on the field."

"Understood, sir." Some of the color was coming back to Harm's face, but he wasn't happy about Mac interviewing at the prison. The last time she tried to interview prisoners was a few years ago in Afghanistan and she wound up in the middle of an uprising with a knife to her throat. "Perhaps it would be best if the Colonel were to wait for me to arrive. Then I wouldn't have to rely on second hand information regarding the interviews." That sounded a little like he had a good reason and not so much like he was scared to death for Mac.

General Cresswell stared long and hard at Rabb before answering.

"It will take close to 24 hours to get to Iraq. I wouldn't call that expedient." Cresswell was still glaring at Harm. This would prove to be a very informative assignment, of that much he was sure.

"Understood, sir." Harm stiffened his stance.

"Petty Officer Coates has your travel orders. Your flight leaves in three hours. I want this handled quickly and quietly."

"Aye, aye," Harm nodded. Glancing down at his watch, he knew it would be a crunch to clear off his desk, run home for a bag, and make his flight.

**Chapter 2**

**Iraqi detention center**

**1100 hours next day**

Mac had been interviewing, or trying to interview detainees for over an hour. She was getting absolutely nowhere. The first half-hour after her arrival had been wasted convincing the powers that be that she needed to interview the detainees one at a time, in private. A group interview in the open was not going to work. She'd gone that route once before, and would never make the same mistake twice in her lifetime.

"Gunny, remind me when we get back to base that I like my job." Mac cleared her throat. This was the frustrating side of her work; if she had thought she was accomplishing something she wouldn't mind. Having angry, disrespectful men ignore her, or worse, spit on her, was not her idea of a profitable way to spend the day.

"Yes, ma'am," Gunnery Sergeant Todd Billings nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He liked working with the Colonel. When she first arrived, he was none too happy to have been assigned to a paper-pushing lawyer, never mind a female paper-pushing lawyer. It wasn't long before he realized Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie was a force to be reckoned with: marine first, lawyer second. He would follow her to hell and back. Mostly because he knew she'd bring him home.

"What do you say we take a break and you find us something to eat?" The food in Iraq wasn't anything close to haute cuisine, but it hadn't deterred her appetite any. She had taken a liking to Gunny Billings. The kid looked like he'd fallen off a Boy Scout recruiting poster from the Midwest, but she trusted him. In many ways he reminded her of a young Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez.

"Yes, ma'am. If you need anything, Corporal Watkins will be outside the door." Gunny snapped to attention, then turned in search of a decent meal.

Mac looked over the information she'd been given before leaving base camp. She'd looked it over for hours last night. Nothing had changed, but she reviewed it again. These damned accusations were a cauldron of trouble just waiting to overflow and burn everyone within a fifty-mile radius. At least she could safely assume the lack of willingness to corroborate the recent claim by the allegedly abused prisoners to mean the complaint was unfounded. She certainly hoped so; the Iraqi campaign didn't need another public relations black eye.

**Airplane over Kuwait**

**Same time**

Harm's flight was preparing to land. It had been a nine-hour flight to Frankfurt, followed by an hour and a half layover before his connecting flight to Kuwait. Now he would change from commercial travel to a C-130 to Iraq, leaving only an hour and a half flight to go. Depending on how long before the next transport was available, it could be only a few hours until he saw Mac again.

Packing his files away in his carryon, he returned all ten copies of his orders, along with his letter of exception for the service weapon in his suitcase. One phrase in his orders kept repeating in his mind over and over, 'Authorized to carry both M9 and M16'. Mac's orders said the same thing. In fact, everyone sent to Iraq had the same recommendations. Extra firepower was needed; there wasn't any post where safety was guaranteed. Harm didn't want Mac in Iraq, he wanted her safe, back in DC.

**Iraqi detention center**

**1300 hours**

"How many more prisoners are there?" Mac asked Gunny Billings.

"Only two, ma'am."

"Good, let's get this over with." Mac moved to the end of the room, while Gunny escorted the next prisoner in to be interviewed.

"I don't speak to women," the prisoner informed the Gunny.

"Well, you don't have any choice. He only speaks English," Mac replied in almost flawless Arabic.

The prisoner glared at her long and hard. When he took a step towards the table and chair, Mac thought he was at least going to pretend to participate as the others had. She'd already gotten three corroborating stories; interviewing this character was nothing more than a formality at this point.

"What can you tell me about your treatment here?" Mac asked, stepping closer to the prisoner.

"I don't speak to women!" the man screamed. Grabbing the chair, he raised it over his head and swung it in Mac's direction.

Dipping to one side, Mac spun around as the chair landed on the table beside her, cracking into several pieces. A broken piece of wood still gripped tightly in her attacker's hand connected with the side of her arm at the same moment her leg swung around, knocking the angry man to the ground.

In what seemed like a flash, Gunny had the prisoner pinned to the floor. "Sorry, ma'am! I didn't see that coming."

"Neither did I, Gunny. Neither did I." Catching her breath, Mac's right arm reached across to her pained left arm. What looked like a platoon of Marines, had stormed through the door and were now escorting the still fighting prisoner back to his cell.

"Ma'am, we'd better get that looked at." Gunny's eyes showed his concern, despite his outward calm. Mac's arm was hanging somewhat limply at her side, her sleeve torn, and a trickle of blood was pouring down a trail to her hand.

"I'm fine, Gunny."

"Ma'am, with all due respect, if I bring you back to the Colonel looking like that, he's going to have more than just my stripes."

Mac couldn't stop the laughter that erupted. "Very well, Gunny. Let's stop at sickbay on the way out of here."

By 1400 hours, Mac's arm was in a sling, bandaged, and they were all packed into a humvee on the road back to base camp. Less than an hour into the ride, they came across an improvised explosives attack on the main road.

"Ma'am, it looks like we have no choice but to turn around in order to get past this." Gunny waved his arm at the wrecked and mangled vehicles blocking their path. "The unit in charge is already in place and has given us a recommendation for the best way to get to base. The alternate route isn't too far back the road. We'll make camp in about two hours. We should still beat sunset, ma'am."

"There's nothing we can do to help with this mess?" Mac glanced around at the dozens of dead or injured bodies strewn about the roadside.

"No, ma'am. They've got it all under control. They're used to this ma'am." He hated making it sound so callous.

The suggested turn off the main road led through the center of a small abandoned village. Something didn't feel right. The hairs on the back of Mac's neck bristled as the large vehicle hummed down the narrow road.

Everyone aboard was poised for action, they all felt it. The minutes ticked by in slow motion until the first blaring sounds of rapid fire were heard. Then all hell broke loose.

Gunfire was coming from every direction. Returning fire, Mac heard Gunny's voice echoing behind her. "Get us out of here!" Another voice hollered back, "Can't, there's a car up ahead blocking the way."

Just then, Mac heard a bullet fly past and stop silently beside her. Quickly shifting to the other side, she tried to examine the young corporal who had taken the shot.

"Stay down, ma'am. I'm okay."

"You let me be the judge. Where are you hit?" Mac ducked her head, hoping the next bullet didn't have any of their names on it.

"It's just my arm, I'm fine. Really." The sound of another voice screaming 'incoming' distracted the two Marines. Looking behind her, Mac saw a nondescript blur swerving towards them, full speed ahead. Grabbing her extra weapon, she and the young corporal made a last minute attempt to dive out of the way before the oncoming vehicle struck. A ball of fire blew around them upon impact, sending the occupants of the humvee flying.

"Colonel, can you hear me? Colonel!" Gunny Billings yelled loudly into Mac's ear. Scrambling to reach the radio, Gunny checked the corporal a few feet away but was too late. The explosion had done what the snipers couldn't.

Mac's head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, her insides were on fire. The gunfire around her sounded so loud, yet hollow. Where was her gun? She needed to return fire...the gun. Her mind was drifting to a quieter, more comfortable place. She could hear him, was that Harm? No, not Harm. The voice was too hard, too different... 'Still taking fire'...

"I need that medivac, NOW!" Gunny shouted over the sounds of gunfire. To hell and back, he thought, to hell and back.

**Chapter 3**

Harm had been waiting in Colonel Howell's office for nearly twenty minutes. When the Colonel finally hung up the phone, Harm straightened in his seat.

"Sorry for the delay. I've had two IEA's in the last four hours, and now it looks like there's a coordinated ambush effort on all the alternate routes around the problem." The Colonel rubbed one side of his face roughly before running the same hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. "My medics are spread too thin. I hate days like this."

"Yes, sir." What more could Harm say?

"I'm expecting Colonel MacKenzie back any minute. I'm afraid we're a little short on space here. The only spare bunks left in officer quarters are in Colonel MacKenzie's tent. We don't have the luxury of separate facilities, and she's pretty good about sharing. Until now we've managed to limit it to female officers only so she's had the tent to herself, but she's going to have to put up with you for the time being. " The Colonel wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Harm squirm, probably wondering exactly what 'facilities' weren't separate. Surely he wasn't any more immune to Colonel MacKenzie's assets than the rest of them. If the Commander was any kind of man, his mind was most likely already in the showers. Colonel Howell decided he'd wait until later to mention how the men practically stand guard when she showers, allowing her at least some privacy. Although, if he weren't happily married, he wouldn't mind letting his mind wander to sharing the shower with her either.

"Sir," a scrawny private stood in the doorway.

"Yes, private."

"About Colonel MacKenzie, sir."

"What's her ETA?" Colonel Howell moved around the desk to take a seat.

"I'm not sure, sir." The private was starting to sweat profusely, and it wasn't from the oppressing heat of the Iraqi climate. No one wanted to face Colonel Howell with bad news regarding Colonel MacKenzie.

"Explain yourself, private." Howell could smell something was wrong.

"I believe she's been injured in the ambush, sir."

"Damn," he mumbled under his breath. "What do you mean, you believe?"

"Her detachment radioed in they were taking sniper fire and had casualties. According to Gunny, they needed back up and a medivac for the wounded."

"Any fatalities?"

"One that we know of, sir." The private was standing his ground.

"How do you know the Colonel's been injured?" Howell noticed Harm's discomfort out of the corner of his eye. Something was definitely up with these two and it had nothing to do with horny sailors and daydreams of beautiful Marine colonels showering in the desert.

"Well, sir, when we told the Gunny the medivac units were tied up, he shouted back 'SHE needs help NOW.'"

"I see. Is the unit on its way?"

"It is now, sir. Yes."

"Very well, report as soon as you hear anything. Dismissed."

"If the Colonel is injured, where will she be taken?" Harm ventured to ask as soon as the private had left. His control was hanging by a thread.

"The field hospital. I'll have one of my men take you there." Howell picked up the phone. "The two of you are...close." It wasn't really a question.

"We've been partners for nine years, yes, sir." It was an honest answer, just not the one Harm knew the Colonel was looking for.

**Field Hospital**

**Somewhere in Iraq**

The chopper landed, and uniforms were buzzing around like bees on honey. Harm had been waiting only a few minutes, but it felt like hours. He'd been through this once before, waiting to hear if Bud was going to live or die, the difference then was Mac had been his rock.

At least Colonel Howell understood Harm's need to be with her.

Harm stood up as Mac's gurney came rushing past him. She looked so pale, her face hidden under the oxygen mask. Her clothes were singed and covered in blood. There was no possible way for Harm to begin to guess where she was injured, he could only hope it wasn't all her blood.

Following the gurney until it moved out of sight, Harm's eyes were drawn to the disheveled Gunnery Sergeant at his side.

"Were you with her?" Harm's voice was barely audible.

"Yes, sir." The Gunny hadn't moved his eyes from where the gurney had disappeared.

Harm studied the young man beside him and wondered if this was the young kid Mac referred to so often in her emails as 'baby face'. Covered in blood and dust, the reality of war camouflaged his youthful features.

"What happened?" Harm turned towards the obviously distraught soldier.

"We were ambushed while rerouting to avoid an IEA." As if only just now realizing someone was talking to him, the Gunny turned to look at Harm. "I'm sorry, sir." He snapped stiffly to attention.

"At ease. It could be a while. You'd better take a seat, then tell me everything."

"It felt wrong." Gunny pulled the M16 rifle from his shoulder and fell heavily into the closest chair. "From the minute we turned down the quiet narrow road, it just felt wrong. Sure enough, partway into the village, we were taking fire. They had us locked in and pinned down. I managed to make it clear of the vehicle, taking up a better position on the other side of the street to return fire, when I heard Corporal Watkins shout incoming in time to see a small truck burst into flames on impact with the humvee."

Harm took a deep breath, his fingers tightening the hold on his cover, his knuckles turning white with pressure.

"I got to the Colonel first. She was unconscious and covered in blood. I checked Corporal Beaux beside her - he was already dead. Watkins had taken some shrapnel in his legs but was still returning fire. I radioed for help. I could tell the Colonel was in bad shape. I'm not a medic, sir, but even I knew if I didn't do something we'd lose her. Blood was gushing from her thigh so I tied a tourniquet and applied pressure to her bleeding shoulder. She still wouldn't wake up. I honestly didn't think we would be able to hold out till the response team arrived. When I saw our guys working their way up the street towards us, I thought I was dreaming." Gunny's hands began running a path across the tops of his legs, from his knee to his hips and back again.

"The response team?" Harm asked.

"No, sir. More marines caught up in the detour. They saw the fireball and scrambled. They're the ones who secured the area so the medivac could land." Gunny was still rubbing his legs, slowly working off the adrenaline.

"Sounds to me like you may have saved her, Gunny. Thank you." Harm was still gripping his cover as if Mac's life depended on it.

"Doing my job, sir." Gunny took a long look at Harm, "Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"You must be the email partner." A hint of a smile teased one corner of his mouth.

"Excuse me?" Harm wasn't sure he followed the question.

"The only time I ever saw the Colonel smile a 'real' smile, you know, the kind that reaches her eyes, was when she'd been reading her email. One time, I came in just before she closed her laptop. She must have recognized the look of curiosity in my eyes, because she volunteered, 'My partner at JAG.' You made her happy."

"And I thought she was counting ways to keel haul me instead of sheep." Harm cracked a small smile. He had hoped he had the same effect on Mac as she had on him, he just hadn't wanted to find out this way.

"Any news yet?" Colonel Howell came walking up to Harm.

"Nothing official," Harm stood up at attention, "but according to the Gunny here, it doesn't look good."

**Chapter 4 **

"At ease. Surely there's someone here who can tell us something?" Howell looked around. The operating room was nothing more than a large container attached to a tent. Where exactly was he supposed to find information? The entire field hospital was a scattering of tents, containers, and old buildings fenced into an enclosed area. There were as many MPs as there were medical personnel.

"A nurse came through there a few minutes ago, but didn't say anything." Gunny pointed to the door Mac had disappeared through.

The three men sat staring at each other, the ceiling, and the doorway to the OR. Neither said much. Occasionally someone echoed the other's heavy sigh of frustration.

"I'm going to need to get back," Howell said, looking at his watch. He'd been here for almost forty minutes. Mac was a good lawyer and a damned fine Marine, and he hoped a friend, but no matter how worried he was about her, things were still happening with the rest of the war and he'd already taken out too much time as it was.

"I assume you gentlemen are waiting for news on Colonel MacKenzie?" A soft voice spoke from the doorway.

"Yes ma'am." The three sprang up.

"She's in pretty bad shape. Broken ribs, wrist, multiple lacerations, dislocated shoulder, second degree burns. Those are the easy ones. They've removed the bullet from her shoulder and repaired the damage to her leg. One of you do the tourniquet?"

"Yes, ma'am," Gunny answered.

"Good job. You definitely saved the leg, maybe her life. There's internal bleeding. They're operating now to find the source. If they can stop it, then we wait and see." Without waiting for any questions or comments, the nurse pulled her mask over her nose and hurried through the double doors.

"I need to call General Cresswell," Harm mumbled.

"Already done. I'll update him as soon as I get back to my desk. Make sure I stay informed." Howell nodded at Harm, then the Gunny, and headed back to camp.

'IF', if they could stop it. The words rolled around in his head like dice on a craps table. Of course they could stop it. They're doctors. That's what they do. They do it every day. Don't they? Dear God, please. Harm flopped in the chair, his naval demeanor gone, the terrified man left alone.

"She's tough," Gunny offered quietly.

"Excuse me?" Harm looked up.

"She's tough, but I'm sure you know that." Gunny smiled a little.

"Yes, I do." Harm appreciated the kid's efforts. Mac was right, he had a baby face. All these kids were too young to be here. "I know I said it before...but, thank you."

"She'd have done the same for any of us. She means a lot to you, doesn't she?" He was definitely overstepping the boundaries with a superior officer, but somehow, it didn't seem to matter here.

"More than I like to admit." Harm berated himself.

The two men sat in silence. Time passed in slow motion. To Harm, the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall pounded loudly, like a time bomb waiting to explode. The seconds seemed like hours, the minutes like days. The hours were eternal.

Gunnery Sergeant Billings had long since returned to duty, when the nurse finally came to tell Harm he could see Mac.

"She's stable now. The bleeding seems to be under control. They had to go back in a second time, but her pressure is up and her color is good."

Harm walked slowly towards Mac's bed. The machinery by her side drew his attention. Blood pressure, heart rate, oxygen rate, his eyes rose to the IV bags. She was probably on a boatload of antibiotics to avoid infection.

"Why is she on oxygen?" He moved even closer to the bed, his eyes focused on the narrow tubing under her nose, not sure anyone was still there to hear him.

"One of the broken ribs punctured her lung. We had to re-inflate it. It'll be easier for her to breathe with a little extra oxygen. She'll probably be on her own by tomorrow if there aren't any more complications." A tall, dark haired woman answered.

"Is she really going to be okay?" Noticing her eagles, Harm realized she must be Mac's doctor, or one of her doctors.

"I'm cautiously optimistic. We almost lost her twice on the table. She's a fighter though, that's very important." Colonel Abigail Hawkins watched Harm intently.

"Thank you." Harm had taken Mac's hand in his. His eyes glancing quickly for someplace to sit.

"I'll have someone bring you a chair. I gather you're going to be here a while." Intrigued by the naval Commander's apparent attachment to her patient, Colonel Hawkins wondered what their relationship might be. Family members generally weren'tstationed together in a war zone, and these two were definitely more than drinking buddies. "But you won't be able to stay over night," she cautioned.

Harm turned to look at the woman with all the answers. "I actually have work to do. You're sure she's okay?" Harm turned back to Mac.

"As I said, we're cautiously optimistic." Colonel Hawkins waved at one of the passing orderlies to bring a chair for Harm. "If you think of anything else, just have some one call me. I'm Colonel Hawkins."

Letting out a deep sigh, Harm turned fully to the woman. "Sorry, ma'am. Commander Harmon Rabb, JAG Corps."

"Go ahead and talk to her, it helps." Smiling approvingly at the handsome Commander, Abigail Hawkins turned her attention to her other patients.

Harm took hold of Mac's hand again, careful not to upset the clips on her fingers, or the wires draped everywhere. "Oh, Mac."

He leaned over her bed more closely, not consciously thinking he didn't want to be overheard but somehow aware what he wanted to say was for her ears only.

"I'm so sorry. I know you need time and space, but I need you. I don't care about anything else but you. I can't do this without you, Mac. Please don't give up. Please." One lone tear streamed down his cheek. She just had to be okay. "I love you, Sarah," he whispered quietly.

A nurse tending to a patient on the other side of the curtain couldn't help but smile.

Harm had no idea how long he'd been sitting with Mac when Gunny Billings had shown up to take him back to base. On the ride back Gunny filled Harm in on all he knew of Mac's interviews. The notes she'd taken were destroyed in the firefight, but Billings was able to give Harm fairly detailed information. He even remembered the names of two of the witnesses, as well as that of the nutcase that attacked her.

The soldiers were housed twelve to a tent. Officers were bunked as many as three or four to a tent. Since Mac was the only female officer, she had been on her own. Harm sat on his bed just looking over at where Mac should have been sleeping. He'd given up on the case forever ago. He just couldn't concentrate. There would be no choice; he was going to have to go to the prison tomorrow and check everything for himself. With only three out of twenty witnesses willing to corroborate, Harm wasn't so sure there really was anything to corroborate. His instincts told him this claim was just a DIA overreaction with a prisoner or two usurping the publicity from the previous situations.

Despite his worry for Mac, the stress of the day and not having slept much over the last 36 hours was beginning to catch up with him. His body was giving out. Tomorrow morning he would go check on Mac first thing, then he would have to tear himself away and find out for himself just what the hell was really going on with the detainees.

**Chapter 5 **

Harm slept more soundly than he had expected to, he just didn't sleep as long as he should have. By 0500 he was at Mac's bedside.

"Shouldn't she have come to yet?" Harm inquired when the nurse stopped to change Mac's IVs.

"Well, she took quite a blow to the head. It's probably best her body rest while it can. When she does wake up, she's going to be in some serious pain." The nurse reset some buttons on the machine by the bed, gave Harm a soft nod, and walked away.

"I guess she's right." He spoke to Mac the way the doctor had encouraged. "I just would feel better if I could hear your voice." Harm sat up against the bed, his hand softly stroking hers, carefully avoiding the rest of her arm. He hoped it wouldn't scar badly. He was sure she wouldn't like that. The doctor said the burns could have been worse, but Harm hadn't been there when they'd changed the bandages, he hadn't seen for himself. At least she wasn't on oxygen anymore. Maybe that was a good sign.

"I have to go to the prison this morning. I think you're going to be right, but I have to check it out. Besides, Cresswell might want me in DC if I call him too soon." Harm had no intention of returning to DC without Mac. Not this time. Careful of her IVs, Harm stroked Mac's hand and continued talking to her about anything and everything he could think of.

It was 0700 and Baby Face would be here to pick him up any minute. "I'm going to have to be going. I'll come back as soon as I can. Get all the rest you need," he said, still holding her hand. "Don't forget, I need you... I love you, Sarah." Why hadn't he found the nerve to tell her that when she was conscious? Shaking his head, Harm prayed he'd get another chance.

After yesterday's incidents, MPs were everywhere along the road between the camp and the prison. Harm's detail arrived without incident.

He interviewed all of the same people Mac had. The witness whose name Gunny couldn't remember had come down with second thoughts and recanted his story. The other two corroborating witnesses gave the same story, almost verbatim. Proving collusion was going to be easy. One of the last people brought in was the prisoner who had become violent with Mac.

"What did he say?" Harm asked the translator, Sergeant Andrew Kepo.

"Nothing, sir."

"Those were a lot of words for nothing. You just tell me what he said, I'll decide whether or not it's important." Harm wanted to get back to Mac. He didn't need to waste time with a well meaning Sergeant.

"He said it's about time we smartened up. He heard the woman who didn't know her place got what she deserved," Sergeant Kepo repeated reluctantly.

Harm practically flew across the table. Knocking the chair out from under the detainee, Harm grabbed his throat and slammed him against the wall, his feet barely touching the floor.

"SIR!" Gunny Billings shouted, stepping up next to Harm. "Sir, the Colonel doesn't need you in the brig." Gunny's voice was calm, but his eyes expressed anything but.

Harm took a deep breath. Not letting go, he looked at the interpreter. "You tell this… 'gentleman'… if he ever disrespects a United States military officer again, he will answer to me personally." Then Harm let the man fall to the ground, picked up his notes, and stormed out the door.

"We're finished here," Harm called over his shoulder.

Harm rode all the way back to the hospital in total silence. Billings and Kepo never said a word to him, and he didn't bother initiating conversation. He had everything he needed to rule the allegations false. All he wanted now was to check on Mac. He could write up his report for Cresswell later.

He'd hoped that Mac might be awake when he reached the hospital. He understood it would somehow be less painful if she remained unconscious while her body continued to heal, but he needed to hear her voice, to know for sure she was going to wake up. What he hadn't expected was to find Mac not only back on oxygen, but wearing a plastic face mask instead of the thin tubing. Her color seemed pale and some of the machinery that had sat unused before was now blinking with activity. Frantically, he turned to find a nurse.

"What's going on?" He grabbed at the first medical person to come within reach.

"If you'll wait a moment, I'll find her nurse for you." The older woman patted Harm's arm gently. She wasn't used to coming across concerned family members out in the field, but she'd had enough experience to recognize one when she saw one.

Harm sat at Mac's bedside as he'd done so often over the last two days. Her skin was hot to the touch, and her breathing seemed so labored. Her chest would barely move and then suddenly heave outward. This pattern repeated itself several times before a nurse finally appeared with an explanation.

"Why is she on oxygen again?" Harm immediately demanded.

"She's had some difficulty breathing. The doctors are concerned she may be coming down with pneumonia. It's not uncommon after surgery like hers." The nurse smiled reassuringly.

"Pneumonia," Harm repeated. "She feels like she's burning up."

"Her white count has been going up. She may have developed an antibiotic resistant strain of bacteria, so the doctor has ordered a new cocktail of high strength antibiotics. We're expecting the lab results back shortly. She has an infection somewhere. Wherever it is, these new antibiotics should knock it right out." The nurse smiled again.

"How serious is this?"

"If it's pneumonia, it's always serious. The infection is unsettling, but she's young and strong. It shouldn't be a problem. I'll be on duty for another few hours, if you need anything just ask for Judi." Double-checking Mac's lines, and machinery, the nurse returned to continue with her other responsibilities.

Harm remained glued to Mac's side for the rest of the day. Thoughts of prison abuse, and reports for superior officers had completely fled. The only thing that mattered was having Mac wake up.

"Excuse me, sir." Gunny cleared his throat. Mac wasn't looking good, and at the moment, the Commander wasn't looking much better. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but Colonel Howell wants to see you in his quarters ASAP."

Harm simply nodded his head. Gently he placed Mac's still warm hand on the bed, and walked out the door.

"Commander Rabb reporting as ordered, sir," Harm saluted.

"At ease, Commander. I realize this is difficult for you. I know you and the Colonel have been…associated for some time. We've only had her here for a month, and half my platoon is waiting with bated breath for news of her status. Unfortunately, I still have a war to deal with." Howell tossed the radio he'd been holding onto a stack of papers and sat down behind his desk.

"Yes, sir," Harm acknowledged.

"Sit down, Commander." Howell paused, watching Harm take a seat. "I've spoken with Cresswell. Apparently the Colonel's replacement will be ready to travel in a couple of days." The irony of that information hadn't escaped Howell. "It looks like you're my JAG until he gets here. Cresswell wants a report on the prison incident yesterday and an update on the Colonel every hour. I told him that wouldn't be a problem. Will it?" Howell looked at Harm pointedly.

"No, sir." Of course it was a problem. Harm didn't want to leave Mac for a minute, not even to report to his commanding officer, but he would. He was a naval officer and duty always came first, no matter how distasteful it could be.

**Chapter 6 **

The report to Cresswell on the prison situation would be the easy part, or at least Harm thought it would.

"Sir, you have a phone call from Commander Rabb," Petty Officer Coates' voice announced through the intercom.

"Thank you, Petty Officer." She had gotten much better at following protocol, and being less presumptuous. Cresswell was actually beginning to think the office wouldn't be the same without her.

"How is she, Rabb?" Cresswell boomed into the phone, the tone of a commanding General mixed with a twinge of fatherly concern.

"Not well, sir. She's got a bacterial infection that's resistant to antibiotics and they've got her on oxygen. They're worried she may have pneumonia." Harm couldn't hold back the small sigh that escaped.

"What's the prognosis?"

"Yesterday they were cautiously optimistic. Today, I don't know."

"I'm sending Traci Manetti to replace you and the Colonel. I understand you've worked with her before?"

"Yes, sir. She's a fine officer. Her language skills and training came in very handy in a serial murder case we worked together a few years ago in Italy."

"So I've been told. Her Arabic isn't as good as her Italian, but she's been studying since 9/11 and is anxious to put it to use. She should be there in less than 48 hours."

"Yes, sir." Harm was a little concerned about Traci in a place like this, but then again, she was a naval officer.

"Now, about the incident at the prison. What in the name of God were you thinking attacking a prisoner?" Cresswell tried to take it easy on Rabb, he knew this thing with Colonel MacKenzie had to be hard on him.

"Sir?" Harm was a little startled Cresswell had heard about it so quickly.

"You're not going to deny it, are you?"

"I … persuaded a disgruntled prisoner that Colonel MacKenzie was an officer in the United States Marine Corps and due the same respect as her male counterparts, sir." Even on the other side of the world, Harm found himself standing at attention for the dressing down.

"Just how much persuasion did you use?" He should have realized this had something to do with MacKenzie. Impassioned officers. Cresswell shook his head remembering Coates' understated comment.

"Sufficient to make my point, sir." The scrawny twerp was lucky Harm hadn't seen fit to snap him in two.

"I would prefer, Commander, if in the future you refrained from using your 'persuasive' skills outside of the courtroom. Is that clear?" Cresswell was counting on the word of the Marine colonel in charge of the prison that Rabb's reaction wouldn't reach the public eye.

"Crystal, sir." Just thinking about the arrogant little troublemaker still had the hairs on the back of Harm's neck bristling.

By the time his conversation with the General was over, it was already after 2200 hours. Harm knew visiting hours were long since over, but was acutely aware he'd have little spare time to spend with Mac tomorrow. Disregarding the time, he grabbed his cover and made his way back to the field hospital.

**Field Hospital Iraq**

Marine Captain Marjorie Griffin pretended to not notice the handsome lawyer on his way to Mac's bedside. She'd heard from other nurses about his devotion and concern. As far as she was concerned, having loved ones around was the best medicine.

Harm held on to Mac's hand all night, he told her about the idiot at the prison camp, he told her how much he liked Gunny Billings, and even admitted, "When you're right, you're right. These guys all look like such babies. When did we get so old, Mac?"

He told her about Traci coming out to fill Mac's billet. Not remembering if he'd told Mac much about the case in Naples, he went into detail about that, even leaving in the part about finding Traci in a towel in his room. "I suppose it's a good thing you're not awake right now. I suspect this is one story you might not take so lightly if you were," Harm chuckled. He'd rather face an awake, angry marine, then watch her lying there so helplessly.

He had no idea what time he laid his head down on the bed beside her, or when someone had slipped a pillow underneath it, but he did see it was 0500 when he felt a slight tap on his shoulder.

"Isn't someone going to be missing you soon?" Margie asked sweetly.

"Not yet." Harm opened one eye a little more fully, the other still struggling with sleep.

"I need to change her dressings before shift change." Margie sounded almost apologetic about needing to move Harm out of the way. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave her with me for a few minutes."

Sighing loudly, Harm's eyes locked on Mac's sleeping visage. "Is she any better at all?"

"Her white count isn't going up any more. That's a good sign. I'm hoping this morning's blood work up will show it's come down." Margie glanced at her watch, she could give him a few minutes.

"If I promise to stay out of the way and not ogle, could I just move to the other side of the bed? I only have another hour before I have to leave. I'd like to stay with her as long as I can." Harm waited till he was almost finished with his plea before turning to look at the nurse.

"Well," How could anyone say no to such sad eyes? "I suppose if you promise, it will be alright."

Harm gave her his best smile, even if it didn't reach his eyes.

"How did you wind up stationed so close to your wife?" Margie moved the blanket off to one side and piled the miscellaneous gauze and creams she would need next to her.

"She's not my wife. We're partners." Harm was standing on the other side of the bed, his fingers carefully entwined with the fingers of Mac's IV clad hand. "She doesn't feel as warm this morning."

"No, her fever isn't as high as yesterday." Margie had stopped what she was doing, and was staring intently at Harm, wondering if perhaps she should reconsider letting him stay. Marine colonels weren't known for being very happy about having their privacy invaded. Though this relationship seemed much more emotionally involved than that of just colleagues, if he wasn't family, exposing the Colonel, regardless of the circumstances, may not be the brightest career move Margie had ever made.

Noticing a lack of movement on the nurse's part from the corner of his eye, Harm turned to give her his full attention.

"Is something wrong?" His eyes were filled with both fear and panic.

"No, no…" Well, she could do this and still be discreet. After all, how intimate is a six-inch gash down your leg, anyway? Margie decided to let him stay, though she would definitely have to ask him to leave when she checked the sutures on Colonel MacKenzie's abdomen and shoulder. Pulling Mac's gown back slightly above the bandage, Margie moved the blanket back closer to add extra coverage while she worked.

Not completely convinced by the nurse's denial, Harm opted to watch her more carefully than he had originally intended. He couldn't help the slow hiss of air he sucked in when the bandages were removed and the wound on Mac's leg was completely exposed. Her entire thigh was several shades of red, black, purple and blue. There were blisters all along her thigh from the second-degree burns, and the gash on her leg looked as though it went from her hip to her knee.

Margie couldn't help but hear Harm's reaction to Mac's injuries. Too busy to really look up, she could imagine his expression. "It's not as bad as it looks," she reassured him. "The discoloration will fade in a few days. Most of this is bruising from the surgery. The burns will heal too. This gash looks pretty awful, but nowadays they can do all sorts of things with scars. I wouldn't worry about it." Margie glanced up for a moment, flashing a quick smile to set his mind at ease.

Scarring, however, was the last thing Harm was worried about.

**Chapter 7 **

**JAG offices**

**Base Camp Iraq**

Somehow, Harm found the strength to go through the motions of his day. A few times he managed to get to the hospital briefly to check in on Mac, but Colonel Howell was right; the war wasn't stopping simply because Mac was hurt.

Shuffling through a stack of papers on the desk, it was late afternoon when Harm looked up at the sound of footsteps across from him.

"Yes, sir." Harm sprang up at the sight of Colonel Howell.

"Commander, please sit down before you fall down." He waited while Harm retook his seat. "How long has it been since you've had any chow?"

"I grabbed something not too long ago, sir."

"What, a can of soda and a granola bar? That doesn't constitute breakfast or lunch and it's certainly not going to pass for dinner. By those circles under your eyes, my guess is you haven't had much sleep either."

"Some, sir." Harm could tell there was no way he was going to win this battle.

"I want you to go get some decent food and then grab a few hours rack time."

"That won't be necessary, sir. I'm doing just fine, but I appre…" Harm was cut off before he could even finish the thought.

"Consider it an order, Rabb. Finish up whatever is in front of you and then food, and sleep."

"Aye, sir," Harm responded to the Colonel's departing six.

Despite his unwillingness, the minute his head hit the pillow, Harm was out like a light. Three hours later the Gunny was in his tent waking him up.

'There's been another incident and Colonel Howell needs you ASAP," Gunny shrugged apologetically. He knew the Commander was spending his nights sitting by Colonel MacKenzie's bed and hated having to wake him up, but when these rebels start blowing up marines, the local JAG doesn't get the luxury of much sleep.

It was another three hours before Harm was free again. Looking down at his watch, how he wished he had Mac's sense of timing, it was just after 2130 and he really needed to check on her.

**Field Hospital in Iraq**

A different nurse was on duty tonight, but like Margie, she knew about the devoted Commander, and also believed there was no medicine like a loved one. By 0400 Harm was once again sound asleep on a pillow on the bedside, with Mac's hand comfortably entrenched in his. Not even in sleep was he letting go of her.

Slowly, Mac's eyelids fluttered open. She couldn't remember them ever weighing so much before. She was tired... no she was more than tired, she was weak. Gradually, she grew aware of a sharp throbbing pain running up her right leg. Wanting to move her hand, she realized it was trapped. No, that wasn't right, it was some place warm and soft, nice. With a little more effort, she managed to open her eyes enough to notice the large blob on her hand.

The kink in his neck was beginning to affect Harm's nap, but the tickling in his palm really got his attention. When he realized the tickling was actually Mac's hand moving, he sat up straight, his eyes wide open.

"Mac, honey!" Harm had jumped up, practically knocking the chair over behind him.

Did he just call me 'honey'? Mac's eyes began roaming the room. I'm me, this is Harm, I have no idea where I am, he's holding my hand, and he called me 'honey'. Mac's eyes dropped closed again.

"Sarah, if you can hear me open your eyes. I need you back. Please hon."

I'm not crazy. He said it again. He called me Sarah and 'hon'. I must be dead, maybe this is heaven. Mac wanted to move her lips, but her face wouldn't cooperate. She needed to sleep. She was so tired.

Lifting her hand, Harm placed a soft kiss on the back of her palm. "Please come back to me. I love you," he said softly to himself, convinced she'd fallen back asleep.

Mac's eyes shot open incredibly quickly for a woman too weak to even think a few seconds ago. His head was down, and his lips were still softly caressing her hand. She was not dreaming. This was very real.

"Amm," Mac managed to moan.

"Oh, thank God! I thought I might have really lost you this time, Marine. Are you feeling okay? No, never mind, don't answer that. You had a humvee blow up around you, how could you feel okay? Just hang on, let me get the nurse." Harm grudgingly set her hand back down on the bed and practically ran to find the nurse on duty.

Two minutes later he was back with an annoyingly cheerful woman at his side.

"Let's see what all the commotion is about," she smiled. "First, I'm going to check a few things, so hang on a minute." Quickly, the nurse took Mac's vitals and scribbled them down on her chart. "I'm going to take your oxygen mask off." Taking the plastic mask off Mac's face, the nurse replaced it with the less cumbersome tubing that rested under her nose.

"How's that? Can you breathe okay?" she asked.

Mac nodded her head yes.

"Good. Is your chest feeling heavy at all?"

Mac shook her head no. She opened her mouth to try to speak, but the nurse put up her hand.

"Hold on, let's get you some ice chips and moisten up that mouth first. Then you can start spouting orders. Ma'am." The nurse left the room for a few seconds and returned with a cup of ice.

"I'm going to give her some now, but if she wants more, you keep feeding them to her." The nurse told Harm. "She can have as much as she wants." Turning back to Mac, she fed her a few chips then stood back and let Mac swallow. "Are you having any trouble breathing at all?"

"No." Mac managed a small, raspy response.

"Any pain?"

"My leg. Shoulder hurts. Arm's a little sore." Talking was exhausting. She didn't feel like mentioning the fire in her belly or pain in her other arm.

"That leg is going to hurt for a while, shoulder too, but we'll bring you a little something to help for now. Do you need anything else?" The nurse was poised to leave for meds on Mac's okay.

"Hun…gryyy." Mac swallowed hard. She was definitely going to have her work cut out for her if simply talking was so demanding.

"We'll see what we can do about that. For now, don't talk too much. You're still pretty weak and those lungs of yours need more rest." Smiling broadly at Harm, the nurse turned and left them alone.

"You scared me half to death. I thought after the accident Christmas Eve nothing you did could scare me. I was wrong." Harm picked up Mac's hand again and noticed her eyes immediately dart down to their clasped grip. "Is this okay?" His heart stopped beating momentarily, unsure of how she'd respond.

"I like it." She tried to smile.

Harm's heart kick-started again. "Me too." For the first time in days, his smile reached his eyes.

**Chapter 8 **

Shortly after Mac had fallen back asleep, Harm returned to base. As much as he preferred staying by Mac's side, he had several things to deal with before Traci arrived. All he would have to do after turning the job over to her was convince the General to let him stay with Mac until she was ready to be transported home. He really hoped Cresswell would see things his way. He didn't want to have to resign his commission again, that was starting to get old.

**Field Hospital in Iraq**

Mac woke up off and on throughout the morning. The annoyingly pleasant nurse's name was Julie and she was actually very nice once you got used to her cheerfulness.

"How long will I be here?" Mac watched Nurse Julie carefully spreading cream on her burned arm.

"Most people want to know how bad the scar will be," Julie smiled, "but you're not most people, I can tell." Looking at Mac's impatient glare, Julie also knew she wasn't going to get away with diverting Mac either. "I don't know exactly." If you remain stable, they'll want to ship you to Ramstein as soon as possible." Julie finished wrapping the arm and walked around to check her patient's left arm, the one that collided with the broken chair leg, and then the dislocated shoulder that had taken a bullet in the crossfire. Silently she hoped Mac was right handed. Between the dislocated shoulder, broken wrist, and other contusions, it was going to be a while before she would be using this arm again.

"How long do you think that will be?" Mac felt awful, but she wanted to go home.

"I suppose, if your white count keeps dropping, you might be able to ship out as early as tomorrow," Julie smiled.

"From Germany I get to go home?" Mac raised her eyebrows, almost daring the nurse to say no.

"The good doctors there will decide when you'll be ready to travel stateside." Satisfied with all her dressings and readings, Julie gave Mac a short nod and walked away.

Mac really did feel horrible. Her head still hurt too much to lift off the pillow, though she wasn't going to mention that to anyone. The pain in her leg fluctuated from excruciating to numb. However, on the bright side, those two things were so overpowering, she hardly noticed the pain in either of her arms at all, and as long as she didn't breathe, her ribs and stomach felt fine.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been sleeping when she felt a need to wake up. She didn't really want to wake up. All the pain and discomfort felt so far away when she was sleeping, but something, no wait, someone... someone was holding her hand. Dragging herself back to consciousness, Mac forced her eyes open.

"Hey, sailor." She tried to smile, loving the feel of her hand in his.

"You should get some more rest," Harm answered quietly.

"Been resting. Want you." Mac fought falling asleep.

Harm's heart skipped a beat, several beats. He knew she didn't mean that the way it sounded, but the words thrilled him nonetheless.

"Just checking up on you. I have to get back. As soon as Traci gets here I'll be able to stay longer. For now, go back to sleep." Harm watched Mac lose her battle with sleep, his fingers drawing lazy relaxing circles on the back of her hand.

By 1500 Mac had finally woken up and was hungry. She'd been trying to enjoy the bland soup she'd been served when she saw Harm and another person making their way closer to the bed.

"I understand you've gone to quite an extreme to avoid this dusty paradise." Traci Manetti smiled broadly, waving her arm in a broad gesture.

"Just remember to avoid incoming vehicles." Mac smiled sincerely. From anyone else, Traci's comment might have appeared inappropriate, but Mac had worked often enough with Traci to appreciate her southern charm.

"You're looking much better, Marine." Harm was pleased to see Mac sitting up slightly and trying to eat. Though, it was obviously very difficult with her burned arm.

"Either I look better than I feel, or you're a liar." Mac smiled painfully, dropping her spoon in the bowl. She was still hungry, but the pain in her side and her arm was more irritating than her hunger. She probably shouldn't have insisted she could feed herself. There was just something so demeaning about having to be spoon-fed.

"I'm sorry Colonel, I didn't mean to disturb your meal." Traci wasn't sure if Mac was having difficulties eating, or was just unhappy with her menu options.

"I wouldn't call this a meal, Traci. You didn't happen to bring any contraband, say a cheeseburger?" Mac started to chuckle and stopped suddenly, a look of severe pain on her face.

"What is it?" Harm flew closer to her side, helping her lay back against the bed. He remained, hovering over her, until her features softened and the color returned to her face. His hands only inches away from her, ready to take action if necessary. No that had any real idea how to help, but he needed to stay close just in case.

"If it only hurts when I breathe, I should have known better than to laugh." Mac closed her eyes, the pain slowly subsiding.

Aware of the intensity with which Traci had just watched their interaction, Harm stepped back a few feet from the bed. He didn't really care if anyone knew how he felt about Mac, but under the circumstances, now probably wouldn't be the best time to start broadcasting it.

"Are you okay?" He may have distanced himself physically, but his soft voice showed his concern was still hovering by her side.

"Yeah, but I'd still rather have a cheeseburger," Mac teased.

"The Commander here tells me that no charges will be brought against the guards at the prison." Smiling at Mac's ability to find her sense of humor, Traci thought it best to turn the conversation towards business. She was starting to feel a little uncomfortable with the closeness between Harm and Mac. Somehow, she almost felt like a voyeur.

"I could have saved you the trip if I'd have made it back to camp." Mac's expression turned serious. "Was anyone else hurt?"

"I met your baby-faced Gunny," Harm smiled. "He saved your leg."

"He's okay?" Mac was relieved to hear he hadn't been hurt.

"He's fine. I wouldn't be surprised if you don't see him and half the platoon passing through here at some point soon."

"What about the others?" Mac persisted.

"Watkins took some shrapnel to the leg. He's doing fine. He's already been sent to Germany. Another kid didn't make it. A corporal." Harm shook his head just a fragment, his eyes momentarily downcast. He hadn't really wanted to tell her that yet.

"Beaux," Mac whispered. "He was a good marine." She held back the urge to cry. There were too many good marines being lost. She didn't have enough tears for all of them.

Harm resisted the urge to move in closer. He wanted very much to take her in his arms and take away her pain, all of it.

"Well, if you two will excuse me, I think I'm going to better acquaint myself with my duties. Feel better soon, Colonel." Traci nodded at Mac.

"Thank you, and remember to keep your head down around here," Mac smiled back.

"Commander," Traci nodded at him, "I presume I'll be seeing you later?"

Harm didn't say a word, he just nodded his assent, and watched Traci turn and walk away.

"You know, I never noticed what a difference a few inches on a pair of high heels can make," Harm commented absently, noticing how much shorter Traci looked in her cammies.

"Yeah, well, anyone working with you can use whatever advantage they can get." Mac tried to shift in bed, her face grimacing in pain again.

"Don't do that!" Harm almost shouted. "Let me help. What do you need?" Harm was once again hovering at her bedside.

"I'm fine!" Mac barked.

"No you're not. What hurts?" Harm's hand had dropped onto Mac's.

She gave him a rather obnoxious look. "You are kidding?"

"Sorry. What especially hurt just now?" Harm repeated more carefully.

"I don't know... my leg, my ribs, my wrist, my side." More like what didn't hurt, she thought.

"What were you trying to do?" Harm's fingers had begun gently caressing the top of her hand.

"If you must know, my butt is sore and I wanted to shift my weight." Mac hated not being one hundred percent.

Harm looked at her studiously for a moment, then asked, "Exactly how do you want to shift?"

"I was trying to pull up a little, maybe turn a bit."

"Which way?"

"What?" This was starting to get ridiculous, Mac thought.

"Which way did you want to turn, to your left or your right?"

"Well since you're on my right, I would think it might be considered rude to shift to my left. Don't you think?" Mac rolled her eyes. Being hungry and in pain wasn't doing anything for her disposition.

"Yes, ma'am." Harm smiled and reached for her, placing one hand under her right arm and one around her left hip. He was careful of her bad shoulder and to avoid brushing up against the incision from surgery.

"What are you doing!" Mac cried a little louder than she intended.

"I'm going to pull you up."

"No you're not." The Marine drill sergeant in her could be heard loud and clear.

"You said you wanted to move, it hurts to shift on your own, let me help." Harm gripped her more tightly. Under any other circumstances he would have yielded to her will, but he had to do something, anything to make her more comfortable.

"Harm!" Mac screeched in surprise as he scooted her up the bed a few inches, then turning her slightly onto her right side. "Ouch...AH…hooh... Bad idea, turn me back," Mac winced loudly, her breathing suddenly ragged.

Harm immediately tilted her flat on her back again.

"What happened? Are you okay?" All the color was gone from Mac and Harm's faces. He was horrified to have apparently caused her so much pain.

"I didn't realize how far around my leg must be hurt. I'd better stay put." Mac's tone softened. "I'm sorry I barked." She had a sinking feeling she might need more help than she wanted to admit, and something told her she already knew who that help would be coming from.

**Chapter 9**

"When do you have to report back?" With Traci here, and no need for further investigation at the prison, Mac knew they didn't have much time left.

"I don't." Harm had been sitting in the chair beside her bed, quietly holding her hand.

"What do you mean, you don't?" Immediately, Mac was concerned he might have resigned his commission again.

"I convinced Cresswell to let me take some leave. I've got almost 30 days on the books. Things are better at ops with the new lawyers, so he authorized it," Harm shrugged one shoulder, tightening the hold on Mac's hand.

"You're staying?" Mac wasn't sure why this surprised her.

"I think they're going to spring you tomorrow, then we'll both be going to Germany. Colonel Howell already approved my accompanying you." Harm hoped she wouldn't be upset with him. He kept his fingers crossed that the injured lawyer would keep the independent marine at bay and just accept his gesture.

Mac started to give her standard 'I'm a marine' objection when a little voice in her head reminded her not to push him away. The pain was almost tolerable when he was with her.

"I'm glad. Thank you," she smiled.

Harm lifted her hand up and gently kissed the back of it. "I meant what I said, I'm still here. Nothing's changed. I still want to be part of your life. For a few days there I didn't think I'd be able to get the chance. I don't ever want to feel that again."

"I'm sorry." Mac would have given anything to avoid putting him through this. She remembered all too well how she felt the time he was lost at sea. It was almost more than she could bear.

"You better get some rest." Harm watched Mac's eyelids threatening to close.

"Maybe." Mac tried to stay awake, she wanted to see where this conversation might go, but her eyes wouldn't stay open.

"Sleep well, Sarah," Harm whispered softly to her sleeping form.

Once again, Harm awoke to a soft pillow under his head, alongside Mac.

"Good morning, Commander." A familiar voice spoke softly. "It's a good thing she's going to Ramstein or you might never get a good night's sleep again."

Lifting his too heavy head, Harm opened his eyes slowly. "Nice to see you again, Margie."

"You too, Commander."

"It's definite then? She's moving out?"

"Yup, this morning's numbers all came back good. We can use the space for someone who needs us," she smiled coyly. "You'll probably want to go get your own gear in order, she should be ready to move soon."

"Thanks, Marge, you're a doll." Harm leaned over and softly kissed Mac's cheek, then carefully backed out of the room.

"Partners huh?" Margie teased as Harm moved past her.

"Best friends too," he grinned back.

The next several days flew by quickly. They'd made it to Ramstein without much ado. The doctors there were pleased with Mac's progress. In no time they had authorized her move to Bethesda. It had been six hours since they had left Germany, a couple more hours and they'd be landing at Andrews.

Mac was breathing more easily, so she was completely off the oxygen. Her ribs still hurt like the dickens, and moving around in bed was impossible without Harm's or the nurse's help. Although, she didn't really need the nurses much, she had Harm. Mac couldn't remember ever seeing such a mother hen side to him before. The only thing that would be really great now that she was on her way home would be if they'd let her get up and walk around. She was going to need to start putting some weight on her bad leg, and then she'd have a little physical therapy ahead of her, but she was getting really tired of being restricted to bed rest.

**Andrews Air Force Base**

As Mac was rolled off the plane, she was completely taken aback to see Harriet, Bud, and General Cresswell waiting to greet her. She hadn't expected anyone there, especially since Harm was traveling with her.

"You're looking very good, ma'am," Harriet smiled.

"I could say the same to you. Where are the twins?" Mac had regretted not being home for the twins' birth.

"Jennifer was nice enough to stay with the kids so I could tag along with Bud," Harriet replied sweetly.

Mac had to draw on years of military training to control the emotions that were building inside her. After all these people had been through, they were still her family. Cresswell, that was another story. She wasn't sure what to make of his taking time away from the day, but she wasn't going to question it at this point.

**Bethesda Naval Hospital**

**Maryland**

Barely settled at Bethesda, Mac was already chomping at the bit to go home. When her new physician came in to examine her, she practically accosted him.

"Even if I didn't know you were a Lt. Colonel, I'd still have guessed you're a marine," the doctor chuckled to quietly.

"So, how long do I have to stay here?" Mac insisted.

"First things first. How well are you moving after surgery, and with those ribs?" Dr. Paul Schmell inquired frankly.

"They're better," Mac dodged.

"Can you sit up straight?"

"Yes," Mac hedged.

"For how long?" The doctor bore an unusual resemblance to Harm when he raised one eyebrow that way.

"Not very long," Mac conceded.

"Can you turn over on your own yet?"

"No." If she were honest, she'd have to admit she didn't move much in bed. Between her broken ribs, sore side, her wrist, her shoulder, and the pains in her leg, she needed Harm or a nurse to help her move the tiniest bit.

"I see you're on a catheter still. It sounds like it's time to have you start making your way to the restroom on your own. Have you stood on that leg at all?"

"Not yet. I was told the stitches weren't ready," Mac sighed, somewhat exasperated. She really wanted to go home, but the doctor was right, she needed too much help.

"Well, I think all is looking good. The burns will need to continue with the antibiotic ointment and bandaging, but I think it's time you start putting a little weight on that leg." Dr. Schmell stopped poking at Mac's leg, looked up over the edge of his glasses, and smiled at her.

"Then I can start using the restroom?" The sooner she could do that, the sooner she could go home.

"Let's see how you do, but with help, maybe," He smiled again. Taking a closer look at the burns on her right arm, "These are looking very good. Same thing with these burns on your leg, we need to keep them covered and keep using the ointment, we don't want the blisters to get infected. Burns like this usually take about three weeks to heal. I'd say they're right on schedule. How are we doing controlling the pain for you?"

Mac didn't like taking medication for pain. Anything with addictive tendencies concerned her, but the burns especially were very painful. "I'm managing."

Dr Schmell was a plump older man with thinning hair. He looked at Mac carefully, Marines were always a pain, but at least she was a pretty Marine. "You need something stronger," he interpreted.

"No, I don't like taking pain medication."

"Why not?" She was going to be one of 'those' marines, he thought.

"I'm an alcoholic. I don't particularly like addictive substances," Mac sighed, not really caring if she was airing her dirty laundry in public.

"I see. Well, we have plenty of options for pain management that aren't considered narcotics." Doc scribbled something on her chart. "I'll see to it that you're given something right away."

"Thank you." Mac wasn't sure she liked the idea, but she was often in severe pain, and there was something very endearing and trustworthy about this guy.

Now standing on the other side of the bed, Doc examined her left arm. "This is looking very good."

"It feels much better than my right arm," Mac smiled.

"I bet it does," Doc chuckled. "Shoulder's healing well also. Shall we tell your shadow he can come back in now?"

"I suspect his patience is wearing thin by now. He's never been very good at waiting in the wings," Mac chuckled at her own pun.

Harm had been pacing the floor outside Mac's door since the doctor discovered he wasn't Mac's husband and suggested Harm give them some privacy. Running his fingers through his hair, and doing his best to wear a hole in the floor, Harm decided he was going to have to do something about that, and soon.

**Chapter 10 **

"Won't you come in, sir?" In his civvies, the doc had no way of knowing Harm was military. All he knew for certain was that Harm wasn't related to Mac. The doctor had surmised Harm was obviously very close to her, but based on the awkwardness prior to his examination, not intimate.

"Is she okay?" Harm asked immediately, somehow refraining from shouting, 'It's about time!'

"Well, considering she was blown up in a humvee, she's doing incredibly well." Doc watched curiously as Harm hurried back to Mac's side.

"I try not to remember that if I can help it," Harm mumbled, taking a seat by her bed.

"It's a little hard to forget," Mac grumbled, placing her hand in his, a gesture she'd grown so accustomed to, she hadn't even realized she'd done it.

"I'm also going to order something to help your circulation. The pain has kept you from moving much in bed, and that makes you more prone to blood clots," the doctor mentioned casually.

"Blood clots! I thought you said she was doing incredibly well?" Harm's eyes were wide with fear. The horrors of possible complications ran through his mind.

"Relax, Mr...?" The doctor trailed off. When he had first entered Mac's room, the nurses had been changing her IVs. In the shuffling of bodies around her bed, no one had bothered with proper introductions.

"Rabb, Commander Harmon Rabb," Harm filled in.

"Commander Rabb," Doc nodded his head. "It's nothing to be concerned about. I'm surprised this wasn't mentioned before. What we'll do is strap a thin vinyl flap around each of her legs. A small pump will turn on and off creating a massaging effect to help with the circulation. Nothing complicated. I didn't mean to frighten you," he smiled at Harm in an attempt to alleviate his concerns.

"I see," Mac answered for Harm.

"As soon as she's up and walking around some, we won't need to keep using it," Doc added.

Harm wasn't terribly convinced, but Mac had squeezed his hand and given him a sideways glance that very clearly said: 'Drop it.'

"When can she get up and start walking?" Harm knew Mac was frustrated with being unable to get out of bed.

"Tomorrow. We'll start by just getting out of bed and standing. If that goes well, we'll do it again a few times. Then the next day we can try walking, with help, to the bathroom."

"That will be great," Mac laughed to herself, amused that 'we' would be doing everything tomorrow. She seriously doubted the doc was planning on staying by her side. Her eyes closely followed the doctor as he finished scribbling on his clipboard, nodded at Harm and herself, and turned to leave. The door hadn't completely closed behind him when Mac managed to fling the blankets off her.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harm jumped up from his chair.

"I'm going to stand." Mac winced trying to sit up straight. This was going to be harder than she had thought.

"He said tomorrow." Harm reached to pull the blankets back over her.

"Tomorrow, today. Same thing." Mac shoved the blankets away again.

"MAC." Harm grabbed her good wrist. "He said tomorrow, we're going to wait until tomorrow. I know you want to go home, but you've got to wait until you're ready. If you push yourself too hard, too soon, you could be stuck here even longer." Harm waited until he felt her shoulders slump in surrender before letting go of her wrist and putting the blanket back in place. "Thank you."

Mac hated that he was right, but she knew without help from someone, there was no way she would be able to get out of bed, never mind stand up.

The new meds the doctor ordered had indeed made a difference. Mac was still in pain, but the throbbing in her arm and leg was less intense. What she didn't like was the contraption that kept turning on and squeezing her legs. It was like having your blood pressure taken over and over on your legs, and very annoying.

"I can't stand it anymore. I'd rather have a blood clot," Mac growled. "I'm calling the nurse. We're turning this thing off." She fumbled around her bed, searching for the call button.

"Mac." Harm tried to still her hands.

"Don't 'Mac' me. You're not the one with this contraption attached. It's going." Mac's stare dared Harm to argue with her.

He had hoped the nurse would talk her out of it, but of course, she couldn't force Mac to do something she didn't want to. The apparatus was removed, and Harm couldn't help but chuckle at the look of delight on Mac's face as she wiggled her toes.

"What if I were to rub her legs, would that be the same?" Harm asked suddenly.

Mac's head snapped back towards him. Anyone would agree, to say she looked shocked would have been a gross understatement.

"It wouldn't hurt. There's a small bottle of lotion in her toiletry kit by the bed." The nurse pointed to the table behind Harm, smiled, and walked away.

Harm rummaged in the bedside drawer and held up the tiny bottle of lotion that had come with the other hospital toiletries. "She wasn't kidding. This is beyond small."

"You don't have to do this." Mac was still stunned and a little uncomfortable with the idea. Okay, very uncomfortable… bordering on panic might have been a more accurate description.

"No, I want to. If you won't let the machine do this, I will." Harm lifted the blanket from the bottom of the bed to expose her legs from the knee down. A little nervous, pouring the lotion on one hand, he reached for her good leg first.

Silently, Mac was very grateful she had managed to convince the nurse at Ramstein to shave her legs when she'd been given her last sponge bath. She would have been absolutely mortified if Harm had discovered gorilla legs under the blanket. She knew she was being silly, but she had to remember to write that woman a thank you note as soon as she was up to it.

Slowly, Harm's fingers spread over her calf muscles, ran down along her ankle, and then back up again. He spent half an hour rubbing and kneading every inch of her calf and foot. When his fingers slid up under her knee, Harm paused momentarily to catch his breath. Her skin was so incredibly soft, something about the back of her knee felt so sensual despite the circumstances. Guiltily, he moved his hands quickly back down to her ankles.

Mac couldn't remember the last time she had been so relaxed. Harm had occasionally rubbed the knots out of her shoulder after they'd worked long hours on a case, but this was the first time she'd felt his hands directly on her skin. If the rest of her weren't in so much pain, this entire experience would be incredible.

Pulling the blanket down over her leg to keep it warm, Harm stepped to the side to work on Mac's bad leg. Very slowly, his fingers inched closer. There was no sign of injury below the knee, but still, knowing how much pain she was usually in, he was a little intimidated.

Mac could see the tension literally filling his body. "Thank you. You certainly beat that machine hands down." Unsure of how else to ease his obvious apprehension, she contemplated whether or not she should tell him that was enough, let him off the hook.

"Good," he smiled, steeling himself to work on her injured leg.

"You don't have to do the other leg too," she blurted out quickly.

"Yes, I do. I told you, I want to help." Until now he'd felt so helpless just watching her. His fingers closed around her toes and he glanced up at her face. Swirling around her toes, his fingers carefully glided down along the side of her foot and around her ankle. Constantly looking back to ensure he wasn't causing any pain, he continued the same motions, over and over.

"If it's too much...I mean...tell me if I hurt you. Okay?" Harm slowed his ministrations waiting for Mac to answer.

"You have a wonderful touch. It won't hurt." Mac's smile tilted up higher on one side of her face. A contented glint sparkled in her eyes.

Harm's fingers froze on her foot. Her sly smile and suggestive comment sent a small shock wave rippling through his system. He knew she hadn't intended for it to sound so erotic, but he couldn't help how his body responded. Clamping down hard on his feelings, he forced his thoughts back to the here and now, to keeping her safe from blood clots.

"Promise you'll tell me if it hurts? Please." His eyes couldn't hide how he felt even if his words tried.

"I promise." Mac thought she could actually feel her heart melting. He'd been so good to her, staying by her side. Now, the look on his face sent every emotion she'd ever tried to bury rushing to the surface.


	2. Chapter 11 thru 20

**Chapter 11 **

Carefully his hands inched further up her leg. When he lifted her calf off the bed, he couldn't help but notice Mac flinch slightly.

"You promised you'd tell me." Harm set her leg slowly back on the bed.

"I will," Mac smiled, the minor pain already subsiding.

"Mac, I could see your face scrunch from here. My eyesight is perfect, remember?" Harm was running his hand up and down Mac's leg in a soothing motion.

"Harm, my leg is hurt. Any motion that jostles it, even a little, is going to hurt some. It wasn't really painful." She couldn't remember ever having seen such an expression on Harm's face before. He reminded her of a frightened child. "It's okay. Keep going," she reassured him.

"I…I don't know if I can. I want to make you feel better, Mac, not cause you pain." Harm was still gently stroking Mac's leg. There had already been too much pain in both their lives. He couldn't handle causing more.

"You are helping. Please, the massage feels good. Don't stop." She really meant it, too. The sensation of his fingers against her skin was the best thing that had happened to her in a very long time. If the only reason he was going to stop was fear of hurting her further, then she very much wanted him to continue. "Hey, when you tried to turn me on my side in Iraq, didn't I tell you it hurt?"

"Yes."

"If you really hurt me, I'll tell you. If I'm going to start walking on this, I'm going to have to put up with at least some pain. No pain, no gain," she grinned.

"I suppose there is some twisted marine logic in there somewhere." Rolling his eyes, Harm very slowly raised her calf slightly to allow his fingers to wrap around her leg. Carefully watching for any more signs of pain or discomfort, he began working the injured leg as he had her good one.

He was relieved to notice her dozing off. Harm suspected with all the bruising on this leg, perhaps this was the one the doctor was more concerned with. He continued to rub and massage her calf and foot for much longer than he had the other. Truth be told, he was enjoying having permission to touch her like this. Her skin was so soft and supple he had to make a concerted effort not to let his mind get away from him. It would have been too easy to imagine doing so much more with her, but this was about healing Sarah Mackenzie, about making her whole again. He wanted so much to make things better for her.

Mac opened her eyes. Aware she'd been sleeping, she was surprised to see Harm still rubbing her leg. If her internal clock was keeping accurate time, she'd been napping for 39 minutes.

"Did you take a break?" Her voice came out a little raspy, startling Harm.

"No." He glanced up at her briefly, a twinkle in his eye.

"Harm, no one expects you to work on my legs all day." She knew his dedication to a task was one of his long suits, but this could easily border on ridiculous.

"I'm not doing it all day, just a little while." This time he smiled at her. It probably wasn't a good time to tell her he was enjoying it too.

The clanking of the dinner cart disrupted wherever this conversation was heading.

"I don't suppose there's a cheeseburger under there?" Mac frowned, partly from the anticipation of another unappetizing meal and partly from the loss of Harm's touch as he set her leg down on the bed and covered it with the blanket.

"You're on a light diet, but you do have Jell-O," the nurse said enthusiastically, as if that were actually a good thing.

"Gee, thanks." Mac forced a smile.

Pushing the buttons on the bed to raise herself up, Mac removed the cover from her plate and let out a low groan.

"I don't suppose you want to go get yourself dinner and bring me back a salad or something?" Mac sighed.

"Salad?" Teasingly, Harm stepped closer and put his hand on her forehead.

"Anything would be better than this bland broth and Jell-O."

"The applesauce looks good," Harm smiled.

"I take it that's a no?" Mac picked up the spoon. That's the other thing that was driving her crazy. More of the soup ended up spilling on her than making its way into her mouth. Of course, in this case that might not be such a bad thing.

Noticing her shakiness, Harm reached for the silverware. "Here, let me help."

"I can do it," she snapped.

Harm knew better than to argue with her. He stepped back and would wait until she got too tired, or too frustrated to finish, then he'd offer to help again, just as he'd been doing in Iraq and Germany. Though, he had to admit she was doing better. It was taking her longer and longer before she'd give up the fight and let him help.

Much to his chagrin, Mac managed to eat the entire bowl of soup without any assistance from him. That was actually a good thing. He was glad she was getting better, but a small part of him liked the idea that for at least a little while, she needed him in some small way.

Dropping her head back heavily against her pillow, exhausted from her efforts, a small whoosh of air rushed from her lungs as the pain in her ribs ricocheted through her body. She would have to remember that she simply had to move more carefully. Shoving the tray stand off to the side, Mac looked up at Harm.

"You should go get some decent food and a good night's rest."

"I'm fine. They've got a cafeteria downstairs."

"That's not what I consider 'decent' food. Besides, you deserve to sleep in a real bed. I'll still be here in the morning."

"I'm fine."

"I didn't say you weren't. I said you deserve a good night's rest and you're not going to get it sleeping in that chair. Harriet and Bud said they'd be by to visit later. When they come I want you to go." Mac used that authoritative tone of voice that usually got her whatever she wanted.

"Don't try that command presence with me, Jarhead. But you are right, it would be nice to shower in my own apartment. When Bud and Harriet get here, I'll go shower, change, and grab a bite to eat, but I'll be back." Harm waved a finger at her.

Mac just looked at him, "Harm, I do not expect you back until tomorrow morning." She could tell he was ignoring her on purpose. She was going to have to figure out a way to get him to stay down for the night. It was already 1745 hours. Bud and Harriet would be there soon. Maybe she could get them to help convince him.

Bud and Harriet showed up as expected. To Mac's surprise, they'd come with Jennifer and the twins in tow. She wasn't in any shape to hold one of the babies, but she watched intently when Bud slipped one of the girls into Harm's arms. The look of total awe on his face was both heartwarming and heartbreaking. For so long she'd held onto that dream of sharing a child with him. She still wasn't sure if it was fair to saddle him with a woman who most likely couldn't give him a child of his own flesh and blood. He looked so fatherly, but then again, this wasn't even his child. Maybe he was right. Maybe it didn't matter if the baby didn't have Harm's looks and her brains. Maybe all that mattered was that they do it together. Sometimes it all seemed so easy, but there were other times when it all seemed so impossible. Her heart was slowly breaking as she thought of the dream she would never have.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" Harriet scurried to Mac's bedside, concerned by the tears trickling down Mac's cheek.

"I'm fine Harriet. Just very appreciative of good friends." Mac wiped the tears from her face. Her eyes still focused on the baby in Harm's arms, and the pointed glare he was giving her. She could tell he was silently asking the same question Harriet had, not having bought her reply. Letting the corners of her mouth curl up in a partial smile, Mac nodded at Harm. He was right, it was more than friends she was crying about, but she would be fine.

Waiting until he was sure Mac was okay, Harm handed the baby back to Harriet. "This is my cue to make an exit."

"Not till morning, sailor," Mac reminded him, wiping away the last remnant of a tear.

"Call me if anyone needs anything." Harm understood what had brought Mac to tears. He'd grieved the same thing, but he didn't care anymore if the baby looked like Mac. He wasn't sure he cared anymore if there was a baby, as long as whatever they did, they did it together. Somehow he had to make her understand that.

**Chapter 12**

Mac didn't need to worry about Harm getting some much-needed rest. After showering and changing, he heated up some take-out Chinese and sat on the sofa to sort through his mail. Five hours later he woke up in a pile of paper with a slightly stiff neck. Aware it was too late to go back to the hospital, he stumbled into bed.

Despite being in his own bed for the first time in ages, Harm was having a hard time falling soundly asleep again. His mind kept drifting back to Mac, to how uncomfortable she was, and how much difficulty she was probably having sleeping.

At 0400 he gave up the fight. Harm took another shower, ate a quick breakfast, and decided to stop at the all night grocery store on his way to Bethesda.

**Bethesda Naval Hospital**

Startled to find Mac awake and watching TV, Harm stopped suddenly in the doorway before continuing into the room. "Good thing you don't have a roomie."

"I wanted you to get some sleep." Mac flipped off the TV, her voice dripping with disappointment.

"I did. What are you doing up at 0530?" Harm set the small bag on the tray by her bed with a hot cup of cappuccino.

"I don't need much sleep. What's that?" Mac twitched her nose at the bag. "Oh, Harm, I smell onions!"

"One onion bagel and cream cheese," Harm grinned. "But don't tell Nurse Ratchet."

She eagerly pulled the bagel out of the bag. "Did you bring a knife?"

Harm reached into his pocket and handed her a plastic knife and some napkins.

"You're a peach." Struggling in an attempt to slice the bagel, Mac's jaw tightened in frustration. She needed two good working arms to hold the bagel and the knife.

"Let me, Mac." Harm reached for the knife, sliced the bagel, and spread cream cheese on one half. "There you go. Now we just have to hope giving you this doesn't get me banned from the hospital."

They both found it slightly strange, and at the same time comforting, that being cooped up with each other for so many days hadn't left them with a lack of things to talk about. They chatted about Bud and Harriet's visit last night, about how far Jennifer had come in a few years, and how well she was adjusting to the General. The different nurses in Iraq were a hot topic for a while, Margie being Harm's favorite, Judi being Mac's. Judi had often kept Mac entertained by teaching her Yiddish expressions.

Mac and Harm couldn't resist the huge laugh that overcame them remembering in Iraq when Gunny Billings and a corporal came to say goodbye before she shipped out.

"You're looking really good, ma'am," Gunny had grinned broadly. Then all the color drained from his face, "I mean... that is... health-wise, ma'am," he stuttered awkwardly, suddenly terrified he might have accidentally disrespected a superior officer.

"He did seem awfully relieved when you chuckled, 'Understood, Gunny." Harm shifted in his seat, amused by the memory of the nervous soldier, yet eternally grateful for his efforts to save Mac.

"Well, I didn't want to make him any more uncomfortable than he was, and I certainly didn't want to laugh at him." Just remembering the flustered baby-faced Gunny put a huge smile on Mac's face.

"It's not like you shouldn't be used to men falling all over you," Harm shrugged, getting up to discard the evidence of his earlier contraband.

"What do you mean 'falling all over me'?" Mac's brow furrowed somewhere between totally confused and really pissed off.

"Just that you don't look like your average GI Joe marine, and that probably catches a lot of men off guard, especially the young ones." Harm could tell he wasn't helping his cause.

"Gunny's not that young. He just looks it," Mac snapped, her brow still crooked.

"I'm sorry I said anything, Mac. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that you're a beautiful woman, even in uniform, and people are bound to notice. I'm sorry." Harm was relieved to hear the door open and see a new nurse come in. He wasn't really ready to eat any more of his own words.

"Good morning. I'm Lt. Holford, Patty," she smiled at both of them. "Are you ready to get out of that bed, Colonel?" The plump redhead in charge of getting Mac ambulatory asked.

"Morning," Harm mumbled back.

"Am I ever!" There'd be plenty of time for morning salutations later; Mac wanted out of this bed. She looked awkwardly around the room, and then over at Harm. Not only was she not sure she wanted him to see her struggling, but she was especially uncomfortable with the catheter and bag, despite his having been so good to her so far.

Harm saw the unease in Mac's eyes immediately. He didn't fully understand the depth of all her concerns, but he knew as a marine, Mac hated for anyone to see her in a weakened position.

"I think I'll go get some coffee while you stretch your legs, unless you need me for something."

"We'll be fine," Patty answered for Mac.

Filled with gratitude at his understanding, Mac's gaze caught Harm's. His heart swelled when he recognized the appreciation twinkling in her brown eyes. Maybe he'd just made up for his earlier comments.

The bed hummed as the nurse pushed different buttons, raising Mac to a near-sitting position. This was much easier on her ribs than trying to sit up on her own. The humming sound continued as the elevated foot of the bed returned to its normal, flat position. Then, the entire bed lowered itself closer to the ground. Mac hadn't realized how high up she had been until the bed slowly descended to an average bed height.

"Take this slowly." The redhead folded back the blankets. "Let's start by getting your legs over the side. Can you do that yourself, or do you want some help?"

"I think I can do it." Mac's left leg easily moved towards the edge of the bed, but it was instantly apparent to her that lifting her injured leg wasn't going to be any picnic in the park. The moment she tried to raise her knee, the pain shot up her thigh as though she'd been stabbed with a sharp instrument.

Patty hovered, ready to jump in at Mac's request.

Clenching her teeth, Mac painstakingly dragged her leg to the edge of the bed and over. Taking a slow, deep breath, she closed her eyes and waited for the pain to ease, oblivious to the discomfort the deep breath had caused her ribs.

"Well done, Colonel! I love working with marines!" Practically giddy with enthusiasm for Mac's small but important accomplishment, Patty moved in closer, wrapping one arm around Mac's waist for stability. "Now, try and stand." Patty was well aware that many patients would not have tolerated the pain of moving their injured limb on their own and would have wasted precious days allowing her to ease them into moving forward.

Mac slid off the edge of the bed. Placing her full weight on her left leg, slowly she added some weight to her right.

"Don't push it. Just put as much weight on the leg as you can stand. I'll also show you a few exercises the doctor has ordered for you to do in bed to help with the muscles." Patty watched Mac's face carefully to make sure she wasn't overdoing.

"You can let go of me now." Mac's voice was much more confident than she was.

Patty took one step back, her arm lingering near Mac, prepared to steady her if necessary.

"Very good, Colonel." It was obvious how pleased Patty was with her patient.

"I want to be able to get to the bathroom on my own," Mac explained.

Every two hours after that, Patty would come in and help Mac stand at the side of her bed. The third time she came to help Mac, Patty noticed Harm massaging Mac's leg. "Oh, good. You can help her with her exercises. The Colonel should be flexing her foot whenever she thinks of it. That will help her muscles, and get the circulation moving. She should also slightly raise her knee," turning to Mac, "Barely," she reminded her sternly. Then she turned back to Harm. "You, however, can raise her knee higher up and place it back down."

Standing next to Harm, Patty put one hand under Mac's knee and the other hand around her ankle.

"After you've loosened her up with your rub down, lift the knee like this, slowly, hold and count to five, then set it slowly back down. Do this five to ten times, depending on how well she tolerates the pain."

"She's a marine," Harm chuckled. "I'm not sure pain is in the Colonel's vocabulary."

"Excuse me, but SHE is here." Mac waved her fingers at the two people holding her leg.

"Yes, ma'am," Patty nodded, then moved to the other side to help Mac get out of bed.

By now Mac was more comfortable with what was going on and let Harm stay in the room as she went through her bi-hourly routine. When Mac's face would scrunch up in pain, her lips tightly pressed, Harm found himself clenching his fists, restraining the urge to jump in and stop whatever was hurting his marine. 'His' marine. Lord, how he wanted that to be true.

**Chapter 13**

In only a few days, with a balancing hand from Harm, Mac was walking to the bathroom pretty much on her own. The first time she shuffled her way to the bathroom, Harm was terrified to close the door behind her, images of Mac falling and hurting herself assaulted his mind. The only thing that scared him more, was the concern she might actually need his help IN the bathroom.

As soon as Patty had given the okay for Mac to get out of bed more frequently as long as Harm helped, Mac was up and around almost every hour on the hour. She'd been taken off IV antibiotics and was now on oral medication, which made moving around the hospital so much easier. The myriad of tubes previously attached everywhere had made helping Mac off the bed, even just to stand for a few minutes, a challenging experience for both her and Harm.

The hospital food was still bland, but at least they now had her on a diet of real food that could be cut with a knife and fork. The pain in her leg and right arm from the burns was still an issue, but the doctor assured her she was nearing the end of that journey. By the time he'd come to check on her that morning, she was more than ready to go home.

"Well, Colonel. It looks to me like you're ready to be released."

Mac let out a long breath of air, and a huge smile spread across her face.

"Even though you're walking better, you're going to need some PT for that leg when the burns finish healing. Most likely the shoulder, too. The burns still have to be tended to twice a day, just like we've been doing. The antibiotic ointment will have to be applied and the dressings changed. I believe there is still plenty left, but I'll give you a prescription in case you need more." The doctor shuffled through a few things on the shelf behind him, looking for the ointment. "Yes, here it is." Turning to face Harm after handing him the tube, doc continued.

"The burns also have to be cleaned once a day. That might still be painful for her, but I've heard wonders about pilot sensitivity." Doctor Schmell winked conspiratorially at Harm.

Mac's eyes were as round as a full moon. Harm was trying desperately not to let his jaw hit the floor. It was obvious to both of them that the doctor expected Harm to be taking over Mac's care.

"Is something wrong?" Doc asked, noticing an odd twitch in Harm's expression.

"YES." "No." The words tumbled out simultaneously from opposite sides of the doctor.

Glancing between the two of them. "Well, which is it? Yes or no?" Doc wasn't sure if he should be laughing or screaming.

"I, uh..." Harm started.

"He won't be taking care of me." Mac cut Harm off.

"Who will?" Doc asked, a little confused.

"ME," she replied loudly.

"Colonel, I know you're a marine, but all kidding aside, can you even see all the burns on your right arm?" He paused a moment for her to think about the question, but didn't give her time to answer. "Don't you think that cast might make applying the ointment a bit difficult?" He pointed to her broken left wrist. "What about the burns on your leg? Even if you can see most of them, and I'm not conceding you can see all of the affected area, with your sore ribs, sore shoulder, broken wrist, and burned arm, do you really think you have the mobility to reach around enough to properly clean and dress the wounds?" This time he waited for her response.

Mac hated it when she was backed into a corner. "Probably not."

"It's my understanding the Commander has been here every day helping with your care. I fail to see the problem." He didn't know, and quite frankly didn't care what their relationship was. The bond between them was clearly much stronger than one of mere physical intimacy. Harm cared very deeply about Mac, that much would have been obvious to any idiot.

"I don't mind." Harm directed his answer to the doctor, but he was really speaking to Mac.

"That's not the point," Mac huffed. "You have a life of your own. The General isn't going to give you leave forever."

"I still have a couple of weeks," Harm offered.

"I can't let you do that," Mac insisted.

"Excuse me. I don't mean to interrupt, but you may not have a choice, Colonel. If you want to leave the hospital, you'll have to be released to someone who can help with your care. Otherwise, you'll have to stay here until you can care for yourself unassisted." Doc Schmell looked from Mac to Harm and back to Mac again.

"Ball's in your court, Mac," Harm shrugged.

Mac ran her hand across her forehead and then back through her hair. The gesture brought home the doctor's words; there was no way she could see the burns on the underside of her upper arm. "I guess I don't have much of a choice. When do we get out of here?" She wasn't thrilled about having Harm as her nursemaid, but she was less thrilled with the idea of spending another week or two in the hospital.

"Tomorrow afternoon. It will give the nurses time to show the Commander how to care for the burns, and then you won't have to dress the wounds again until the next morning," Doc Schmell smiled.

"It won't be soon enough." Somewhat reconciled to her fate, Mac made a meager attempt at smiling back.

"Be sure the nurses show you what will be expected of you after you take her home," Doc told Harm.

"Yes, sir," Harm nodded. He'd known for years he wanted to take care of Mac. It just hadn't occurred to him it would be anything like this.

**Mac's apartment**

**Georgetown**

**Next day**

Mac had never given much thought to how many steps it took to get from the curb by her building to her front door. She paced herself as best she could, but the closer she got to her apartment, the more she needed to lean on Harm.

Taking her keys, Harm unlocked and opened the apartment door. Still holding onto Mac with his free arm, he turned towards her bedroom.

"Where do you think you're taking me?" Mac pulled her weight away from Harm.

"To bed." Of all the times he'd dreamed of saying that to her, none of them had ever included a scenario quite like this.

"Keep dreaming, sailor." Despite her use of humor, Mac was in no mood for jokes, but she was in less of a mood to argue. "I've had enough of bed. I want to sit in a real chair." She pulled away from Harm and moved towards the sofa.

"Mac, you need to rest. It was a long walk from the car." Harm wished he'd have thought to rent a wheelchair or something. If he hadn't been afraid of hurting her bad leg, he would have just picked her up and carried her inside.

"I can rest on my sofa just as well as I can rest on my bed. Please?" She shamelessly batted her eyes at him.

How could he resist? Those big, brown, doe eyes were filled with so much exhaustion, and frustration, and something else he couldn't quite make out. He could tell she was at the point where begging wouldn't be beneath her. "Okay, but take it easy," he acquiesced.

Sitting back on the sofa was harder than she'd anticipated. Simply sitting down wasn't too bad, but when she tried to shift her weight backwards, the pull on her ribcage and stomach, along with the pressure on her leg, assaulted her senses with a sharp pain she couldn't hide. As soon as he heard her stifled cry, Harm spotted her hand on her ribs and immediately began shoving pillows behind her back to ease the pressure.

"Is that better?" Holding another cushion, Harm waited in case she was still uncomfortable.

"Yes, thank you." Mac didn't dare mention she actually wanted to lay back on the sofa and raise her legs. It had been too painful just to sit back. She could wait for tomorrow to try a different position.

"Would you like a cup of tea, or something cold to drink?" Harm offered, not completely convinced she was even comfortable, never mind okay.

"No, thank you." Considering how long it had taken to get her settled somewhat close to comfortably, the last thing she needed was to drink anything, especially not a diuretic.

"What about food, real food. Are you hungry?" he continued.

"As tempting as that offer is, no, thank you." Oh, this wasn't looking good. He was fidgeting nervously. "Will you try and relax? I'm not a porcelain doll," Mac smiled.

"I know that." He really did, but he couldn't help himself. It had taken everything in him to stop reacting to Mac's pain at the hospital. Recently, it had seemed to be lessening. To see it flare up again was hard for him, and he hated not being able to do anything about it. "I think I'll get something cold to drink. I stopped at the grocery store last night and stocked up on a few of your favorites," Harm called over his shoulder, turning into the kitchen doorway.

"That was nice of you. Thanks." She could tell she was going to have to be thanking him a lot over the next week or so. "What do you say to picking out a nice movie? If you're willing to make popcorn while you're in there, I'll share."

"Sounds like a plan." Harm tried to calm down. A good, lighthearted movie was exactly what the doctor ordered. Returning from the kitchen loaded with popcorn, he picked out a comedy he thought she would enjoy and popped My Cousin Vinny into the VCR. Turning towards the sofa, he set the large bowl next to Mac and then carefully took a seat at the other end. Sitting down in almost slow motion, an observer might have thought he was the injured party.

"Harm, this will never work if you're going to move around like that all week. I'm okay. I'm not in as much pain, and you won't hurt me by sitting down. Please try and relax." Mac couldn't help laughing just a little at Harm's over-cautiousness.

"Aye, aye, ma'am." Harm saluted, breaking into a broad grin. She was right, he needed to lighten up a little. Just because she almost died in Iraq didn't mean she was going to break on him now.

**Chapter 14**

It felt really good to be able to laugh a little without feeling much pain. Mac finally felt she was really making progress. "No matter how many times I see that movie, it still makes me laugh." She smiled up at Harm.

"I don't care what anyone says, I think Marissa Tomei deserved that Oscar." Harm got up and carried the empty popcorn bowl into the kitchen.

"I agree, she was just great." Mac started chuckling again remembering some of the actresses' best lines. "I love it when she looks at Vinny and says, 'like you really blend.' Or 'What are you an F'n world traveler'?"

"I know, that movie is filled with great scenes, I love it when Vinny sits back in court, crosses his ankles and says, 'watch this'." Back from the kitchen, Harm held his hand out to Mac. "It's late. What do you say we get you ready for bed?"

"Yeah, we can watch TV in my room."

Harm bent over to give her a little more support to stand up with. The word 'we' echoing in his mind. Slowly, he walked with Mac back to her room, his hand gently poised at the small of her back. She was walking much better now, he could tell the rest while watching the movie had refreshed her.

"Do you mind if I borrow one of your t-shirts?" Mac asked halfway into her room.

"No." Harm's brow curled in confusion.

"The elastic on these sweats is starting to bother my middle. The scar is still a little tender, and a pair of pajamas would do the same thing. I thought one of your t-shirts would be more comfortable than mine," Mac explained. She was looking for a compromise between comfort and modesty and she thought his longer t-shirts would do the trick.

"Sure, let me go get one for you." Harm left Mac leaning against the bathroom doorway while he went back to the living room and rummaged through his bag for an appropriate t-shirt.

Mac had inched her way into the bathroom and was sitting on the toilet seat waiting for Harm when he appeared, Navy t-shirt in hand.

"What else can I get for you?" He handed her the shirt.

"This is it, I'm just going to change and brush my teeth." Mac placed her hand on the vanity and pushed herself up to a standing position, releasing a slow hiss of air as she rose.

"I'll wait out here in case you think of anything else." Harm closed the bathroom door.

Mac took off her sweats with no trouble, but she hadn't realized how much easier it was to put on a sweatshirt than to take it off. Raising her arms up over her head was more painful than she had expected and was surprised when she heard herself gasp.

"Are you okay?" Harm's panicked voice came through the door. He had been standing on the other side of the closed door and was instantly filled with concern to hear the small groan that came from inside the bathroom.

"I'm fine," she called out. Taking a deep breath, she tugged on the shirt to pull it over her head. Another sharp pain shot through her ribs and down across her midsection. She swallowed a low growl, trying to hide the pain from Harm. If she'd been wearing a bra she would have just called him in to help, but helping now would create more intimacy than she was ready to deal with. Pulling her arms out of the sleeves and dropping them at her side while the pain subsided, Mac reached over to rub her left shoulder. She couldn't help but chuckle at her predicament. Here she was, sitting on the toilet, in her underpants, with a sweatshirt hanging over head.

"Mac?" It was taking her too long he thought, he hadn't even heard the water running to brush her teeth yet. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Mac could hear the worry in Harm's voice. "I'm fine, it's just a little more work to take the sweatshirt off than I thought it would be," Mac finally admitted, still waiting for the pain to subside before gathering up the nerve to pull the shirt off the last distance.

"Let me help," Harm suggested. Good heavens, what was he saying? Oh, get a grip Rabb, she needs help, you're her best friend, he argued with himself. Mac's continued silence was only adding to his inner turmoil.

"Mac, what else are you wearing?" Harm had seen her in precious little at the hospital, but he suspected the reason for her silence now was because she was currently wearing even less than that. "Mac?" If she didn't answer soon, he was going in to help, whether it was wanted or not.

"I've still got the sweatshirt partway on." Mostly on my head, she thought. "I've already taken off my pants," she added.

"Mac, I'm going to close my eyes and come help you take off the shirt. Ready?" He wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Mac felt totally silly but really didn't want to raise her arms again. "Ready."

Harm closed his eyes and turned the doorknob. Taking baby steps, he ran his hand along the sink to his left, feeling his way to where Mac was last sitting. "You still on the toilet?" he confirmed.

"Uh huh," she mumbled.

When Harm's toes bumped into the edge of Mac's feet, he dropped his hands to reach for her. An unexpected rush flooded his system when his left hand landed squarely on what was obviously a bare, naked shoulder. Harm swallowed hard. This was no time to let his feelings, physical or otherwise, get in the way. Running his hand across her soft shoulder towards her neck, he let out a sigh of relief when his fingers tangled up in the soft fabric. Placing both hands firmly on either side near the neck, Harm tugged the sweatshirt lightly over the back of her head and held the now removed garment out for Mac to take hold of.

Placing it strategically in front of her chest, Mac cleared her throat. "Thank you. You can open your eyes now." Draped in front of her, the oversized sweatshirt managed to cover her breasts as well as her panties, though her shoulders and thighs were still very visible.

Harm backed out of the bathroom. Closing the door behind him once again, he took a deep breath and threw himself back against the wall, extremely thankful for loose fitting jeans and cursing himself for needing them. There was something innately wrong with finding an injured friend incredibly sexy. Even if the friend was Mac, the only woman who had ever held his heart in her hands.

**Chapter 15**

An annoying sound was dragging Harm out of the best night's sleep he'd had in a long time. They'd been watching the old war movie In Harm's Way with John Wayne on PBS. Mac thought the title was amusing and insisted they watch. Halfway through, he had fallen asleep on Mac's bed, still fully clothed. Now columns of bright colors were flashing from the TV with that ear-piercing sound that could only mean the station had stopped broadcasting for the night. Forcing himself out of bed, Harm stumbled around the corner and felt blindly for the button to turn the contraption off. Relieved to have peace again, and not to have woken Mac in the process, Harm paused to consider if he should return to bed or maybe go sleep on the couch. It was one thing to have fallen asleep watching TV, it would be another to willfully invade the privacy of Mac's bed.

With every intention of sacking out the rest of the night on the sofa, Harm grabbed the pillow he'd been sleeping on. A small groan from Mac's side of the bed caused him to hesitate and focus on her. Her arms were still, but he could see her hands were moving steadily. Stepping around to the other side, not wanting to wake her with the bright bedroom light, he flipped on the light in the bathroom shedding a soft glow into the bedroom. Mac's face changed from moment to moment, her head shifting from side to side. She grunted and moaned, but none of the sounds came close to intelligible. She was having a nightmare. Of that much he was sure.

Not certain if it was best to wake her or not, Harm watched as Mac's hands began moving more frantically, her left arm rising and dropping beside her, her voice carrying more loudly through the room.

"Mac, honey." Harm kneeled by her side of the bed and whispered to her quietly. "Shhhhh, it's just a dream." He tried to soothe, afraid to touch her.

"Let Me!" Mac screamed. The first audible word Harm was able to make out. Her head began whipping about more violently. She was starting to shift her weight on the bed, worrying Harm she might hurt herself.

"Mac, honey, please, wake up." This time, Harm dared to rub his hand across her cheek to help calm her.

"Snipers!" Mac smacked Harm hard with her left arm. Now Harm was really getting worried.

"Mac. Come on." He grabbed her good shoulder and tried shaking her a little. "Wake up, it's a nightmare."

"Incoming!" Mac shot up straight in bed, panting heavily. "OUT NOW!"

"MAC!" Harm grabbed her and pulled her forcefully into his embrace. Restraining her flailing arms, he was no longer concerned about hurting her as much as he was concerned she might hurt herself. Whispering into her hair, his voice was quiet but desperate, "Mac, I'm here. It's okay. Shhhh," he hushed.

Blood, there was so much blood. Mac scrambled frantically to reach Corporal Beaux. The flames were so close, so hot. Pressure, she had to apply pressure. Ripping her jacket off, she shoved it into the gaping hole in the young boy's side. Fire, the fire was so close, she was burning. They were burning. Bullets everywhere, her gun, where was her rifle? She had to return fire, but Beaux. Everything was getting louder. She could hear the fire crackling her skin.

"Mac!" The distant voice was calling her. Fire she had to stop the fire, save Beaux. Gunny where's the Gunny? "Mac, please." No, not the Gunny, Harm. That was Harm's voice. No go away, she couldn't have Harm in the fire. "I'm here, it's okay." The voice was so much closer, louder. Where?

Mac turned her head, opening her eyes. Harm felt the moment her body relaxed in his arms, her head slowly coming to rest in the crook of his neck.

"Are you okay?" he mumbled into her hair, resisting the urge to delicately kiss away the fear.

Mac was having a hard time catching her breath. Her side was killing her. "What happened?" She swallowed a ragged breath.

"You were having a nightmare." Harm's hands were gently stroking Mac's back in slow calming caresses, no longer concerned with what his hold might do to her arms.

"I needed to save Beaux. We were all on fire." Tears slowly began rolling down her cheek.

"You did all you could. It's not your fault, Mac." Even though she'd never actually said anything to him, he knew she was feeling guilty she survived and the young corporal didn't. It had taken him years to get over his guilt of surviving the ramp strike that Lt. Mace didn't.

Mac just let the tears pour while Harm continued caressing and calming her. His soft voice lulling her into a state of tranquility completely opposed to the horrid fear that had only moments ago consumed her very being. It had been several minutes when she finally noticed he was kneeling on her floor. Pulling away, she wiped her tears from her cheek with the back of her hand.

"You should get off the floor." She tried to smile, her breath catching in her throat. "I doubt your knees are up to it."

"Why don't you let me worry about my knees." Harm gently stroked away another tear before standing up. Without a word, he went into the bathroom, turned off the light, and came back with a box of tissues. Setting them on her nightstand, he pulled one out and used it to dab the last few tears left on her cheek.

"Are you feeling better now?" He should have had more sense than to have watched a war movie. How could he not have realized that type of movie could easily trigger memories of the explosion? Silently, he kicked himself for once again letting her down.

"A little, thank you." Mac grabbed another tissue and began twirling it in her fingers. "I don't remember what really happened after Beaux and I dived out of the humvee, but the dream seemed so real," Mac frowned.

"It's not, just relax. Lay back and I'll go get you a glass of water, or would you rather have something hot like tea?" Harm stood by her bedside. What he really wanted was to drag her back into his arms and keep her safe forever.

"NO. I mean, no, thank you. Just stay with me." Mac patted the bed to her right. It would be too much effort to shift over and make room for him on the edge of her bed, and right now the last thing she wanted was to be left alone, even for just a few minutes. She really needed him close, very close. As Harm walked around to the other side of the bed, Mac's eyes fell to the pillow on the floor.

"Why is there a pillow on the floor?"

Harm stopped mid-stride and doubled back to pick up the pillow. "I was carrying it when I noticed you were having a nightmare. I guess I dropped it there when I tried to wake you up."

"Why were you carrying a pillow?" Her eyes followed Harm walking around the bed.

"I was on my way to the couch." He sat cautiously on the opposite side of the bed.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"Don't answer a question with a question. Why did you get out of bed to go sleep on the sofa?"

"I was never IN bed, I fell asleep on it, on your bed. The key word being 'your'."

"Obviously it's my bed, but you can't possibly expect to take care of me for who knows how long sleeping on the sofa." Mac hadn't really given any thought to where Harm would sleep. They'd shared bedrooms and beds before. It never occurred to her he wouldn't feel right sharing her bed now. Oh, that was a thought. If only she were in any condition to really share her bed with him. Get a grip MacKenzie. She could barely catch her breath, this was no time to let her mind wander in that direction.

"It won't be the first or last couch I've slept on. I'll be fine," Harm shrugged half-heartedly.

"Harm, you are not sleeping on the sofa and that is final. If you're going to take care of me, you need a good night's sleep and you're not going to get that in my living room." Mac reached the short distance across the bed to take his hand and tug him a little closer. "Besides, I don't want to go back to sleep alone, not now."

Harm's heart sank to his stomach. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath. The sexiest sick woman he'd ever known was insisting he share a bed with her. He might just have to fall asleep in his jeans every night.

**Chapter 16**

The night seemed to be passing quietly, and in slow motion. Harm kept waiting for Mac to have another nightmare, but instead she seemed to be sleeping peacefully, her hand gently folded in his. After what felt like forever, he finally dozed off to sleep with his hand tightly gripping hers, unwilling to relinquish his only link to the woman he loved.

**Next morning**

**Mac's bedroom**

Blinking a few times to clear the sand from her eyes, Mac was filled with a wonderful sense of comfort. Since the firefight, she hardly moved at night. The aches and pains were improving but she was still too sore and stiff to move around well, especially when lying flat in bed. The burns on her arm were healing faster than her leg and didn't hurt nearly as much as they had the week before. Every day she could see major improvements. She'd actually thought her abdominal muscles had healed almost completely since the surgery, that was, until last night when she'd sat back on the sofa, and later when she raised her arms over her head and the pain shot through her again like a missile on fire. Movements like those would most definitely be something she was going to have to avoid for a little while longer. Sometimes she felt as though the hands of the entire medical division in Iraq had been rummaging through her insides in search of that elusive bleeder. Not once, but twice, no less. For now she would stick to button-down shirts, at least until her body had more time to recover, and especially until she had gained more mobility in her injured shoulder.

Inhaling deeply, Mac was particularly thankful that at least her ribs didn't affect her breathing anymore. It had been horrible not being able to breathe deeply, or to laugh. Laughing uncontrollably, or worse -- coughing -- was still not a pleasant experience, but she could however, chuckle and laugh lightly without feeling like her insides were on fire. Not that she had much to laugh about at the moment; her body bore a tremendous resemblance to a tic-tac-toe board with strawberry jelly smeared all over. The incision on her abdomen was healing well enough, and fortunately wasn't as large as she had originally envisioned. The doctors had given her some ointment to help reduce the scarring, but no matter what she did, she was pretty sure her bikini days were over.

Her biggest obstacle by far was definitely going to be her leg. Between the gash from the explosion and the burns from the fire, her leg was still a painful nuisance. Not only did it prevent her from being able to roll over and move at night, but it kept her from moving too quickly in the daytime as well. Besides, it looked just awful. If she'd thought the scar she'd gotten ages ago from the homicidal poacher's bullet was unfortunate, the ramifications from this most recent escapade were going to be the source of many an interesting conversation. Never mind a bikini, not even a pair of Bermuda shorts would be able to hide this scar.

Aware of the morning urge to relieve herself, Mac really needed to get up and use the bathroom, but she so wanted to relish the feel of her hand in Harm's for a little while longer. She understood why she didn't move much in her sleep, but she was truly surprised to find Harm still gripping her hand in practically the same position he'd been in when she'd fallen asleep last night.

"What's so funny?" Harm mumbled out of the side of his mouth. With his eyes barely open, Mac hadn't noticed he was watching her watch him. When her lips curled up in a small smile, he couldn't resist asking what she was thinking.

"You and your sense of chivalry." Shaking her head with an even broader smile. "You probably would cram your oversized frame into that little sofa for all eternity if you thought it was improper to do otherwise."

"My frame is not oversized."

"But it is chivalrous."

"That much I'll agree to. Is that such a bad thing?"

"Not at all. I like your frame just the way it is, thank you." All the color drained from Mac's face just before her cheeks flushed bright red at the dawning of exactly how that must have sounded.

"Your frame's pretty likable too." Harm couldn't resist the small grin that teased at the corners of his mouth. He'd hoped she might feel a little something for his 'frame.'

"My frame ain't what it used to be." Suddenly serious, Mac pulled her hand away and started to sit up. Clenching her teeth, she discovered something else the pain in her side didn't want her to do. Remembering what the nurse had told her, she dropped back heavily and rolled to her side. Placing her right hand awkwardly on the mattress in front of her, she used her arm to push herself up, thanking God every second that her arm was no longer in pain.

"You okay?"

When Mac looked up, Harm was already standing in front of her, his hand extended.

"Would you like some help?" He didn't want to tell her he saw the pained look on her face when she'd first tried to sit upright.

"No, I'm fine." Mac started for the bathroom.

"Do you want to do your bandages after breakfast?" Harm tried not to let his voice show how nervous he was about this.

"Uh, yeah I guess so." She found herself once again very thankful for the ability to take a deep breath. If she didn't, she just knew her heart was going to jump right out of her chest. What had she gotten herself into?

"How do you want your eggs?" Harm backed away slowly, concerned Mac might need help and not want to ask for it.

"However." Inching her way to the bathroom, Mac didn't really care about breakfast at the moment. She wished desperately that she could take a long hot soak to help with the stiffness.

"Something wrong?" Harm noticed Mac stop abruptly just inside the bathroom door.

Closing her eyes, Mac gathered her courage. "I don't want to lift my arms."

"Excuse me?"

"If I don't lift my arms, I can't take off your t-shirt." Mac turned just in time to see the flicker of fear flash behind Harm's panicked green eyes. She also saw the wave of fighter pilot calm wash over him as he took a step towards her.

"No problem." Placing his hands on either side of Mac, he grabbed the shirt. "I'll just close my eyes." Making every effort not to touch her skin as he had done the night before, Harm gently tugged the t-shirt over her head and handed it to her, then with his eyes still closed, turned his back to her.

"Scrambled, or better yet, cheese omelet?" He called over his shoulder.

"Um, with mushrooms, and maybe some bacon too?" Slightly stunned, Mac was clutching the t-shirt against her bare chest, her mouth moving of its own accord when her stomach growled loudly.

"I'll hurry," Harm laughed, walking a little faster at the sound of her protesting stomach.

Tossing the shirt in the hamper, Mac turned to stare at her reflection in the mirror as the sink filled with warm water. Lifting a dry washcloth from the counter, she pressed it against her cheek, slowly dragging it down the length of her face and throat, continuing between her breasts, stopping sharply at the edge of the scar on her abdomen. The bright red of the deep mark contrasted shockingly with the pale gray tone of the rest of her skin. 'Likeable frame?' Not anymore, she scoffed at the memory of Harm's words.

Soaking the rag in the now lukewarm water, Mac carefully began washing up. Despite avoiding her own reflection, she couldn't help but notice her hair was a stringy mess. Wringing out the small towel, she watched the water run back into the sink. There was no way she'd be able to wash her hair without Harm's help. Hanging the washcloth on the towel rack beside her, she opened the bottle of lotion Dr. Schmell had given her for the scar. Rubbing the cool salve into her healing skin, her eyes darted briefly to her bandaged leg. She was most definitely a mess. The memory of Harm's alluring smile flashed through her mind. Why had she ever agreed to any of this?

**Chapter 17**

Harm took several deep breaths. What he really needed was a very long, very cold shower. Just knowing there was a practically naked Sarah MacKenzie within inches of his touch was sending all the wrong messages to all the right places. She had, once upon a time, been his best friend, and despite her original misgivings, she had trusted him enough to help her. There was no way he was going to betray that trust by letting his lustful imagination get the better of him. He had to do this, not only for her, but for their friendship.

Mac struggled painfully changing into clean panties. There was nothing on this earth that would have her ask Harm for help with that. Bending over hurt her side, and lifting her right leg hurt her burns. She compromised and did a little of both before sitting quietly on the toilet and waiting for the pain to subside. Some times she felt great, as though nothing was wrong, and then there were other times where one simple movement would remind her of what she had been through and why she needed help.

Finding button down tops long enough to cover her legs was going to be a challenge. She had one old flannel nightie. Looking at the sleepwear, she couldn't resist laughing quietly. Something about the words nightie and flannel seemed amusingly contradictory. She hadn't worn it in years, but it buttoned half way down and reached mid thigh. It would have to do for now, but she couldn't very well wear it every day. Maybe Harm had a few old shirts he wouldn't mind lending her?

"Do you need some help?" Harm called from the other side of her bedroom door. Breakfast was starting to get cold and he was beginning to worry. It had occurred to him that she would need more time than usual, but even so, she seemed to be taking too long.

"No, I'm coming." Mac forced a broad smile and opened the door.

"Cute." Harm raised an eyebrow and turned back to the kitchen. "Going to wear that to the next Marine Corps ball?"

"Don't push your luck, Rabb," Mac snapped back, moving slowly towards the table.

"You okay?" Harm stepped aside, his brow furrowed deeply, he was sure she had been moving more easily the night before.

"Yeah, fine," Mac lied.

"Mac." Harm could tell she was hurting. He'd have to be a blind fool not to notice.

"I told you, I'm fine," Mac insisted.

"Have it your way. Breakfast is on the table." Harm waved his arm briefly towards the food, then carefully followed her the last few steps to the table. Watching her struggle to sit down, he tried to disguise his look of concern.

"Mac, please tell me what happened?" Harm picked up his fork.

Sighing heavily, "I just moved wrong while getting dressed. I have to learn to be more careful, that's all." Mac spread her napkin on her lap and reached for her fork.

"Moved wrong?" Harm's fork hung halfway to his mouth.

"It was nothing." Mac took another bite.

"IT what?" His hand dangling in mid air, Harm still hadn't taken that first bite.

"Your food's getting cold." Mac waved her empty fork at him.

Harm glared at her in thought. She was obviously not going to tell him what she'd done, at least not right now. Maybe she was right; maybe all it meant was that she would have to be more careful for the time being. Harm made up his mind: he would watch her like a hawk and make sure she didn't do anything out of fear or pride that might cause her more pain.

"You win this time, Marine." Harm finally took a bite of his eggs. "But promise me, if I can help tomorrow, you'll ask."

Not on your life, she thought. "If I really need your help, I'll ask." Hesitating a moment, she debated with herself if she really wanted to ask what was on her mind. "I... actually...I wouldn't mind..."

"Wouldn't mind what?" Harm took another bite.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to wash my hair and I think I'll be needing some help." Mac's eyes dropped to her plate in an attempt to hide her discomfort.

"Sure," Harm smiled. That wasn't so hard. Maybe she was learning not to try everything alone.

Having finished breakfast over less tense chitchat, Harm reached over to pick up Mac's empty plate. "Why don't you meet me in the bathroom? I'll put these in the kitchen and then we can change the dressings." He tried to reassure her with a smile. He knew she was a tad unnerved with him having to do this, and he wanted to appear as calm as possible to help put her at ease.

"Right," she nodded. She hated needing help. Marines weren't supposed to need this kind of help.

Sitting on the head waiting for Harm to finish up in the other room, Mac could feel her palms beginning to sweat. Fidgeting with the corner of the bandage, she began unwinding the wrappings on her arm. The pink flesh was fully exposed by the time Harm reached the bathroom.

"You should have waited for me to do that." Harm took the dressings from her hand and tossed them in the wastebasket behind him. Bending down on one knee, he gently pushed the hem of her nightie up her thigh. His eyes glanced briefly at hers, silently requesting both permission and forgiveness. Swallowing hard, he slowly began to peel away the corner of the bandage, thanking God for his pilot's nerves of steel. He was convinced they were the only thing keeping his hands from shaking enough to register on the Richter scale

His fingers moved with surprising grace for a man with such large hands. Mac couldn't help but ponder what it might have been like if he hadn't turned her away, if she hadn't said never, if they had somehow gotten together before it had been too late. What would those fingers be able to do to her healthy body? Closing her eyes, she tried to brush away those thoughts, to lock them in a box deep in her mind not to be tampered with. She couldn't help the loud breath that escaped from her lungs as she closed the door on her deepest desires.

"Did I hurt you?" Harm froze. He'd been counting on her having healed enough that cleaning the burns wouldn't be as painful as it had been the first couple of weeks. At the sound of what Harm mistook for a whimper, he quickly stopped washing her arm.

"What?" Mac opened her eyes and looked into Harm's deep green gaze. She saw raw pain in his eyes. The old cliché 'this hurts me more than you' flashed through her mind.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. Am I being too rough?" Harm's fingers were beginning to tremble. He had thought he could do this, but maybe he was wrong.

"No, it doesn't hurt much at all anymore," she smiled with a bit of a single shoulder shrug.

"But you winced. I know you, Marine. You don't wince for 'not much' pain." Harm leaned back a little further on his heels.

"It wasn't wincing, I was just thinking. It has nothing to do with what you're doing. Promise." Okay, so maybe it was a little white lie and it had everything to do with his fingers on her, but not in the sense he feared.

Hesitantly, Harm leaned forward again and finished washing her arm before shifting to clean her thigh. The scar from the shrapnel damage and subsequent surgery was healing nicely. It wasn't nearly as frightening as it had appeared to him at the field hospital in Iraq. Most of the discoloration had cleared, yet still, caring for this wound intimidated him the most out of all her injuries.

Gingerly, he proceeded to clean the burns. The sheer fear of doing anything that might hurt Mac was the only thing keeping the rest of his body from reacting to such intimate contact. He tried to keep from exposing as much of Mac as possible, but the dark brown sheen of her panties occasionally caught his eye. He wondered if changing her underwear had been what had caused her so much discomfort earlier this morning, it would certainly explain why she hadn't called for his help.

Mac gritted her teeth behind pressed lips. Focusing on ignoring the pain was better than dwelling on the awkwardness of the situation. She could see Harm's chin occasionally duck deeper against his chest whenever her nightie slid up and exposed her panties. If she weren't in so much pain, the chivalrous gesture would have warmed her heart. Scooting back against the tank, Mac set the heel of her foot on the toilet to allow Harm easier access to the rest of the burn. She almost laughed to herself; only another couple of inches up the side of her thigh and the panties would have been a moot point anyway. For whatever reason, fate had at least allowed the burns to stop in such a way as to allow her some sense of modesty.

Harm hoped his ears weren't turning bright red, he was sure his cheeks had to be. There was no mistaking the color of her underwear now. With her foot up on the toilet, he pretty much had a clear view of things he shouldn't even have been thinking about, never mind seeing. God help him now, he was only partly done. The antibiotic ointment still needed to be applied. He was beginning to wonder if maybe he had gotten himself in over his head.

**Chapter 18**

"I'll be right back. I think I left the ointment in the other room." Harm excused himself for a minute. He knew darn well the ointment was on the bathroom counter, but he needed a few seconds to re-group. This was ridiculous. There was nothing sensual about caring for an injured friend. Why was he struggling so? That had to be a stupid question. He was a man in love with a beautiful woman. That was the problem, and no number of injuries would change that. He was just going to have to get a grip. Straightening his shoulders, Harm returned to the bathroom.

"I can't find it," he shrugged.

"That's because it's on the counter here." Sitting quietly on the commode, one hand resting above her knee the other below her hip, she was slowly kneading away some of the discomfort of the recent cleaning of the burned leg, and pointed to the sink with her nose.

"Thanks." Harm avoided meeting her eyes, and diverted to wash his hands before bending down beside her again. Carefully, he raised her leg at the knee and began applying the gel. His mind focused solely on helping Mac heal. When he finished with her leg and arm, he wrapped them in fresh bandages and smiled proudly, looking her in the eye for the first time since he'd returned to the bathroom.

"Thank you." She was as confused about all this as he was. They were two grown adults behaving like awkward teenagers. "Maybe we should reconsider this," Mac suggested timidly.

"What?" Harm dropped his hands on her knees.

"Harm, it's obvious you're not comfortable with this."

"You need me. At least, I hope you do." Shifting his weight from his heels, Harm sat on the floor.

"Yes, I do, but maybe not for this."

"Mac..."

"I think we've got to at least discuss this, and honestly." Mac glared at him pointedly. "But to be perfectly frank, I don't want to have this discussion while I'm sitting on a toilet."

Harm couldn't resist chuckling at her sly grin. "Yes, ma'am." Standing up, he extended his hand to help her up. "The living room?" he suggested.

"Yeah." Mac didn't let go of his hand until they'd reached the other room.

Taking her time to sit down carefully, Mac propped herself up comfortably on the sofa. Finally comfortable, she looked over at Harm for a few long minutes.

"I'm not sure we can do this," she almost whispered.

"I can do it," Harm insisted from the other side of the sofa.

"Okay, hotshot lawyer, then tell me this: why did you leave the bathroom before you were finished?" Mac knew full well what was wrong. He wasn't fooling anyone. She was going to find a way to let him off the hook.

"I needed to stretch a minute." It was partly the truth.

"What else?" Like a dog with a bone, if nothing else, she was persistent.

Harm turned his head to look out her window. Why did they have to do this? Inevitably he would open his mouth and the wrong words would tumble forth ruining everything. Maybe he could give her part of the truth… the part that wouldn't make her want to deck him.

"I don't want to hurt you. It's taking all the control I have to keep from shaking in there. The last thing I want to do is cause you any more pain."

That was not what she was expecting. She could read in his eyes he was telling the truth, and yet, in the bathroom she thought she had seen something else in his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I thought you might find me too... revolting." Now it was Mac's turn to look out the window.

"WHAT?" Harm hadn't meant to shout.

"It bothers me to look at myself... I thought ... I thought it was affecting you too." Mac continued to stare out the window.

"Mac…" Scooting closer to her, Harm curled his finger under her chin forcing her to face him. "You're affecting me all right. What I really need is a cold shower." Harm smiled inwardly at the wide-eyed look of shock that instantly spread across her face.

"Really?" It made no sense to Mac. How could so much battered flesh have done anything but turn his stomach?

"You are the most beautiful, sexy woman I know, and I'm ashamed that in your current state of pain and injury I can't stop myself from wanting you." Harm stopped breathing, hoping he hadn't ruined everything.

"What?" After what had seemed like forever to Harm, Mac managed to softly speak, her mind having a hard time accepting the concept that Harm meant wanting her in the way it sounded.

Taking her hand in his, he smiled shyly. "Mac, I think I've already made it pretty clear that I want to be a part of your life. I've also tried to let you know I'm willing to wait as long as it takes, to give you whatever time and space you need. But I'm only human. It's a lot easier to give you time and space when you're dressed in marine green. When I have your soft skin under my fingers and can see the color of your underwear, no matter how hard I try not to... Oh, Mac, I can't help the things it does to me. I'm trying, really I am."

Mac sat there, dumfounded. Could he be telling the truth, or was he just trying to make her feel better? In Iraq he had told her he needed her, and she didn't think she'd been dreaming when he'd said he loved her. But even so, her skin was raw and scarred. Surely it wasn't passion he was trying to hide from her?

"Say something, please?" Harm was beginning to panic. He hadn't meant to tell her that much of the truth, but he couldn't let her think he found her repulsive. My God, he could never think that, no matter how badly scarred she was.

"I don't know what to say." Mac was speechless.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Just give me another chance. I'll learn to handle this, I promise." Harm was desperately regretting having said anything. How could Mac possibly let him touch her again knowing he was lusting after her with every stroke?

"You're really serious? You really want me that way, in spite of…?" Waving her hands over herself, Mac tilted her head as though that would somehow make everything clearer to her.

"Oh, Mac…" There was so much doubt in her eyes. Still holding her hand, he slid further along the couch until he was teetering on the edge beside her. Placing his free hand behind her head, he drew her into his advancing lips, capturing hers in a tender caress. He had every intention of keeping the kiss short and sweet, but when he felt the softness of her lips press against his, he found himself lost in the sensations.

Releasing her hand and wrapping his arm around her, careful of all her sore spots, he pulled her more tightly against him, as close as he dared. His lips played and teased with hers, his tongue slid past his lips and pleaded with hers for entrance. Mac's fingers raked their way up his chest as her tongue darted out to meet and tangle with his. She tasted exactly the way he remembered.

His heart was racing wildly. Her fingers, swirling tantalizing patterns across his chest, were sending shivers down his spine and a few other places as well. Alarm bells were going off in his head. He had to back away before he did something foolish. Every ounce of his body was craving more of Mac. Unable to move his arms for fear of brushing against a painfully sensitive part of her bruised body, Harm forced himself to break the kiss.

"Woooww… that was some kiss, sailor." Mac pressed her lips together, savoring the lingering taste of Harmon Rabb.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to let that get away from me." His breath heavy and ragged, Harm rested his forehead against hers, dropping his hand down her arm. Hesitating briefly as it brushed across her bandage, he took hold of her hand again.

"I'm so glad you really mean that." Mac squeezed his hand, her breathing a little heavy too.

"Someday I hope to show you exactly how much I mean it." Harm raised his head and kissed her forehead. "If you'll let me."

**Chapter 19**

'If I'll let him?' That had to be the stupidest thing Harm had ever said to her. Mac was having a hard time getting her breathing under control. His thumb was slowly caressing the back of her hand, stoking the fires that had been so powerfully ignited by that searing kiss. Her body was tingling, desperate with desire. She couldn't help but curse that blasted humvee. There wasn't an inch of her body, heart, or soul that didn't want Harmon Rabb right now as much as she hoped he wanted her.

Harm watched Mac's closed eyelids, wondering what she was thinking. Would she be ready to continue with this when her health allowed, or was she contemplating how to fling him across the room without causing herself any pain? Unconsciously, his thumb stroked and played with the back of her hand, much in the way he wanted to stroke and caress her entire body. He was having a hard time getting back under control. Practically lying on top of her most likely wasn't helping. Her hands were no longer between them, and he could feel the soft form of her breasts molding against his body. Trying not to think about them was only making the situation more difficult for him. He simply had to pull himself away. At least off the couch, probably across the room would be good, or maybe, better yet, outside in the winter cold without a coat. Yeah, maybe that would solve his problem.

Shifting uncomfortably in his now very tight jeans, Harm let go of Mac's hand and made his way to the chair across from her.

Having sensed her watching him walk across the room, Harm turned to look in her direction. He locked onto her gaze, still unable to determine what was going on behind those beautiful dark brown eyes.

"I, um, don't want to leave you alone, but I really could use some fresh air, or a shower maybe," Harm smiled, hoping she didn't think he was running away.

"Me too," she chuckled, "But I'm not allowed to do either."

Oh great! That was just what he needed, visions of Mac and him in a shower together began dancing around in his head. Immediately, his jeans were becoming increasingly more uncomfortable.

Harm dropped his face in his hands.

"Are you okay?" Mac panicked, that wasn't a move she'd often seen Harm do.

"Yeah." He replied through his fingers. His shoulders started shaking as a low grumbling chuckle grew into a hearty laugh. "We make quite a pair don't we?" Harm dropped his hands and looked straight at Mac.

"You could say that," she smiled.

"Why didn't we do this years ago?"

"Fear? Okay, Stupidity," she shrugged.

"Sounds more like it." Harm looked down at an unusually intriguing spot on the carpet. Still focusing on the floor, "Does this mean we finally want the same thing at the same time?" He was afraid to look up and see her reaction, but he had no choice.

"I'd like to think so." Mac tried not to blush.

"Then you're not mad at me?"

"For what? For telling me you want me? That you don't find me repulsive? Or for kissing my socks off? The answer to all of the above is 'no'." Mac could see the wave of relief literally wash over Harm's face.

"We'll probably have to readdress this again at a more appropriate time, like maybe when your legs don't look so damn gorgeous draped across that sofa." Harm raised a suggestive eyebrow, breaking into a broad grin. Her legs were gorgeous, and the way she sat hiked her nightie up high enough to pretty much expose most of the long limbs.

"Sorry." Mac blushed again, tugging at her nightgown.

"Don't be. If you can trust me with another chance, I can do this. Really I can. I've been watching those legs for years." Harm rolled his eyes at her playfully. A sense of humor was probably the only way they were going to get through this.

"Nothing you do can ever make me lose trust in you. Don't you know that yet?" Mac shifted her weight and used her arm to push off the sofa. "Under any circumstance, or condition, I'd trust you with my life… and my virtue," she giggled. Like she'd really seen that in the recent past. Dropping her hand on his shoulder, she smiled at him. "You want to help me wash my hair before or after you shower and change?"

Thankful she was making this easy for him, Harm grinned up at Mac, his hand covering the one resting on his shoulder. "How much of a mess do you think we'll make?" He was taking the less serious approach to this one.

"If you build the ark, I'll collect the animals," Mac played back.

"Then we'd better tackle your hair first." Harm stood up chuckling and took hold of Mac's hand.

"Where is the best place to do this?" he asked more seriously.

"Under normal circumstances, I'd say the kitchen, but the way I feel, I'm not sure."

Harm ran the options through his mind and decided it would indeed still be easier in the kitchen, especially with the vegetable sprayer. Besides, he was much calmer now, but wasn't too sure he was ready to be confined with her again in the small space of the bathroom.

They bumbled their way through figuring out whether it was easier for Mac to face forward or backward, if she should stand or sit in a chair, could she help a little or was he going to do have to do it all. When Harm squirted the shampoo all over his chest and then sprayed the water across the kitchen, not once but three times, they laughed until they cried.

Once Harm had cleaned up the sloppy mess they'd made in the kitchen, he showered and dressed, then joined Mac in the living room for a game of Scrabble. Somehow, knowing it was okay to be attracted to Mac took some of the edge off the situation. The afternoon was pleasant and playful. After Scrabble they played cards, watched a movie and then played cards some more.

By three o'clock, Harriet had called and told them not to cook dinner. She was bringing over a casserole, and if they were up to it, she and Bud would love to stay and visit. Mac and Harm agreed company would be nice. All Mac had to decide was what to wear. She had no intention of greeting company in a flannel nightie.

Buckling her bra in front and turning it around, she managed to pull up the straps with a minimal amount of struggle. She chose a loose dress that made her look like a whale, but it wouldn't hurt any of her bumps, bruises, or incisions. The only catch was it zippered in the back and she would need Harm's help with that. Regardless, helping with a zipper would have to be easier than yesterday's sweatshirt escapade.

After calling Harm into her room to help with the zipper, she almost jumped out of her skin when he leaned down and kissed her bare shoulder before raising the zipper to cover her exposed back.

"Sorry," he offered, not sounding at all repentant.

"No, that's okay. Actually, more than okay, that was nice." Mac turned her head to smile at Harm over her shoulder. This might not turn out to be so bad after all.

Feeling free to express at least some minor affection was definitely making the entire situation more bearable for Harm. At least, it seemed to for now.

**Chapter 20**

Harriet had been in Mac's living room all of ten minutes when she noticed something different in the air. She'd left the kids with a neighbor and had driven over alone to meet up with Bud. Expecting him any time, they'd opted to leave the casserole warming in the oven.

"How are things working out, ma'am?" Harriet took another sip of her drink and shifted in her seat. She'd been watching her two friends carefully but couldn't quite put her finger on what was nagging at her.

"Harriet. You're not in uniform and you're no longer on active duty… surely you can remember my name?" Mac sighed in frustration.

"Yes, ma…ac," Harriet chuckled to herself, then looked down at her watch.

"What time did Bud say he'd be here?" Harm asked, noticing Harriet kept glancing at the time.

"Five thirty. I guess something must have come up at the last minute. If you're hungry, I don't think he'll mind if we start without him," Harriet offered.

"Nonsense, it's barely six o'clock. I don't think starvation is an issue," Harm reassured her.

"He's right, Harriet, there's no hurry. It's not like I have anywhere to go." Mac's laughter was interrupted by the ringing of her phone.

"MacKenzie. Oh, hi Bud… We were just talking about you…. Of course… Understood….Not a problem… We'll see you when you get here." Mac hung up the phone and turned back towards Harriet.

"It seems Cresswell called Bud into his office as he was about to catch the elevator, so he couldn't call sooner. He just got out and is on his way."

"I guess that explains it then." Harriet shrugged, her expression much calmer. Harriet didn't like to worry unnecessarily, but having lost baby Sarah and then with Bud stepping on a landmine, she didn't presume bad things couldn't happen to them.

Harm played host so Mac wouldn't overdo it. He refilled Harriet's drink, and brought out some crackers and cheese to munch on while they waited for Bud to join them.

"It must be awfully busy at your house now with four children?" Harm stated the obvious.

"It's different. I'll give you that. Twins is nothing like having one baby. If I thought I didn't get much sleep with AJ or Jimmy, I had no idea," Harriet laughed loudly. "You learn just how little sleep you really need to survive when you have twins."

"When I'm feeling better, maybe you can leave the kids with us for an evening, or even a weekend?" Mac glanced at Harm for his approval.

Harriet turned to see Harm nod his agreement before Mac continued.

"Yes, wouldn't a weekend alone, getting all the sleep you want, be a nice treat?" Mac offered.

"I think a weekend would be a bit long, especially since I'm nursing, but an evening out like tonight is always a nice perk." Harriet's mouth was saying one thing but her mind was working overtime on something else. Mac offered 'us' before checking with Harm. Something was definitely up. Could it be they were really together and hadn't told anyone? No, there'd be no reason to hide that from her and Bud. Harriet hadn't realized her brow was curling deeper and deeper in thought as she pondered what was happening around her.

"Is something wrong?" Mac asked, suddenly concerned by the contorted expression on Harriet's face.

"What? Oh, no, just lost in thought I guess. With four children they say the mind is the first thing to go!" Harriet laughed, hoping she'd diverted everyone's attention. Based on the laughter filling the room, she was fairly sure she'd been successful.

It wasn't long before Bud was knocking on the door. Harm hopped up immediately and greeted his long-time friend.

"Good to see you." Harm patted Bud on the shoulder, stepping aside to let him into the room.

"You too, sir," Bud smiled. "You're looking much better, Colonel." Bud handed Mac a small bouquet of mixed flowers.

"You didn't have to do that, Bud. Bringing dinner was already above and beyond the call of duty." Mac couldn't hide the smile that spread across her face as she sniffed the beautiful arrangement. "But, I have to admit, I'm glad you did. They're glorious."

"Here, let me put them in a vase for you." Harm was at her side in a flash, ready to receive the colorful blooms.

"Thanks, hon."

Harm almost tripped on his way to the kitchen. She'd called him 'hon'. He was sure she hadn't said 'Harm', and if the deer in the headlights look on Bud's and Harriet's faces were any indication, they'd noticed the slip too. Mac, on the other hand, had either lost her mind or was completely oblivious to what she'd just done.

Noticing Bud standing frozen in place, Mac pushed herself off the sofa. "Here Bud, let me take your coat. Sit anywhere you like. Dinner will be ready shortly, I'm sure." Mac reached for Bud's overcoat.

"No need to get up, ma'am. I can take care of it. Where do you want me to put it?" Bud offered, suddenly annoyed with himself for being so dense and giving Mac time to get up at all.

"Nonsense, a little exercise is good for me." Mac extended her hand again waiting for the coat.

"Thank you ma'am." He grudgingly handed the coat over, shrugging apologetically at his wife and Harm.

Glaring pointedly at Mac, as she turned to carry the garment into the other room, Harm silently scolded her for not letting him get the coat. "Bud, why don't you and Harriet come sit at the table? When Mac comes back we can go ahead and start dinner." Harm didn't see any need to make her get up off the couch again in a few minutes. They might as well wait for supper at the table.

"So, did Cresswell have anything interesting for you?" Harm asked, pulling the casserole out of the oven.

"Sort of." Bud hadn't wanted to bring it up until after dinner.

Making her way back from the bedroom where she'd left Bud's coat, Mac sniffed heavily at the air, rubbing her tummy in anticipation of real food. "Harriet, this smells even better than it did when it was still in the oven."

"One of the moms from AJ's class gave me this great recipe for tuna casserole. It's made with potato chips." Harriet scrunched her face with amusement.

"Whatever it's made with, Mac is right, it smells great." Harm placed the dish on the table. Tossing the oven mitts to one side, he took a seat next to Mac.

Bud was relieved that for now the subject of Cresswell had fallen by the wayside.

"Honey, Harm and Mac have offered to watch the kids for us some night when she's feeling better." Harriet scooped food on a plate and set it before her husband. Deliberating a fraction of a second, she glanced at Mac's cast and decided to continue serving the rest of the table.

"Thank you," Bud smiled politely.

"Actually, we offered an entire weekend, but Harriet said that wasn't practical while she's still nursing," Harm added, accepting a plate from Harriet and setting it in front of Mac.

"Let's see what you think after one night. If the offer still holds, maybe we'll take you up on it sooner than you think." Harriet handed Harm a plate and began serving herself.

"I'm sure we won't change our minds," Mac spoke for both of them. Harm just nodded in agreement.

Harriet took a bite of food, her eyes darting back and forth between Harm and Mac. Something was most definitely going on, she just couldn't put her finger on it.

"So Bud, you never did tell me what Cresswell needed you for." Harm took a bite of the casserole, his fork preparing for his next mouthful.

"Well, sir..." Bud hesitated a moment, he didn't think he could stall any longer. "He wanted to see me about you, sir."

"Me?" Harm stopped with his fork in mid motion to his mouth.

"Yes, sir. It seems there was an incident at the prison in Iraq."

"And?" Harm let his fork fall quietly to his plate. He could feel Mac's eyes boring a hole through him and purposely avoided looking in her direction. He'd neglected to mention anything about the incident to her.

"Well, sir, it seems the DIA was more than a little upset the prison command overlooked the incident. They're insisting on an Article 32. Conduct unbecoming, and assault, sir."


	3. Chapters 21 thru 30

**Chapter 21**

"An article 32 without a JAG investigation?" Harm sat back in his chair, his appetite nowhere to be found.

"Not exactly. Colonel Howell refuses to send the incident to hearing without an investigation. Apparently a Gunnery Sergeant Todd Billings has stated for the record that there was no assault. Another witness, a Sergeant Andrew Kepo has been on special forces operations for the last 8 days and has not been available for comment." Bud took a bite of his food, even though he wasn't very hungry at the moment either.

"I see." Harm picked up his fork again.

"Well, I don't," Mac spat rather angrily. "What's this all about? And exactly how do you fit into it Bud? Is the General sending you to investigate?"

Bud looked at Harm, silently pleading for assistance. He hated it when Mac went into marine interrogation mode.

"Well, ma'am. I believe the General was just fishing for input as to the Commander's …uhm…level of concern for you, ma'am." Bud quickly took another bite of food. Perhaps if his mouth were full she'd stop asking questions.

"What?" Three voices chorused around him.

"He wanted to know if your …relationship with the Colonel is conducive to unprovoked attacks of perceived threats." Still looking at Harm, Bud set his fork down again. If he was going to have to face the firing squad he might as well not do it with his mouth full.

"He asked you that?" Harm seemed surprised.

"More or less, yes. I explained that you and the Colonel have been partners and friends for many years and that you both hold yourselves to the highest of standards in all situations, regardless of circumstances. I also added that you would defend any fellow officer if their lives were threatened or their reputations attacked."

"And what did he say?" Mac asked this time.

"Not much, he just told me if I needed to go to Iraq, to take Coates with me." Bud shrugged his shoulders, not sure why the General saw a need to use Coates.

"Apparently he's trying to broaden her resume," Harm mumbled under his breath.

"Well, sir, you have to admit you couldn't ask for two better advocates for the investigation." Harriet tried to find the bright side to the situation.

"I suppose he could have sent Sturgis," Harm scoffed.

"Harm, you two may have your recent differences, but you've been friends a lot longer. Under any circumstances, Sturgis wouldn't ignore the truth." Mac placed her hand on Harm's arm, a gesture not unnoticed by Harriet.

"He also wants to see you in his office tomorrow. The sooner the better," Bud added.

"I can't come in now," Harm blurted out without thinking.

"Sure you can. I can be left home alone for a few hours. It's not like I'm an invalid. I just need your help with the wound care and my clothes." Mac regretted her words the minute they left her lips. She knew Harriet caught that last comment and Mac didn't dare look in Harriet's direction.

"Still, what if something happens?" Looking directly into Mac's eyes, Harm completely ignored her remark about clothes. Right now what anybody else might be thinking of their situation was the last thing on his mind.

"Nothing can happen. It's not like that commercial 'I've fallen and I can't get up'. I can do almost anything alone if I have to. We'll just see to it that everything I need help with is done before you leave." She could tell Harm still didn't want to leave her alone.

"If you'd like Harm, I can come stay with Mac while you meet with General Cresswell," Harriet offered.

"You need to speak to the General, sir. So far all he has is the brief statement from the Gunny and the DIA's report on the prisoner's accusations. The fact that it's the same prisoner that sent the Colonel to the infirmary already doesn't bode well for his claims. It would really help your case if the General heard your side of it, sir." Bud knew that Harm wouldn't disobey a direct order to report for duty, but a little encouragement in the right direction couldn't hurt.

"Very well." Harm immediately noticed Mac stiffen when she heard Bud mention it was the same prisoner who had attacked her. He knew he was going to have a lot of explaining to do after Bud and Harriet left. He'd better start appeasing her now. "Tell the General I'll be in as early as I can once the Colonel is set for the day."

"I'm sure everything will be cleared up once you speak to the General and this other sergeant returns. In the meantime, everyone finish up. Did you bring it Bud?" Harriet's eyebrows inched higher in anticipation.

"I left it in the car." Bud took his wife's hand in his and turned to his hosts. "There's German Black Forest cake for desert."

Mac's eyes opened wide as saucers. "Harriet you're an angel. You know that's my favorite."

"Yes, ma'am," Harriet answered gleefully. She was so glad Bud was able to pick up a cake on his way in from the office. It was just the ticket needed to lift everyone's spirits after the stressful news.

Later that night while putting fresh ointment on the burns and changing the dressings, Harm explained to Mac what had happened at the prison.

"So you're saying Gunny lied?" Mac was standing in the bathroom holding her skirt above the burns, so Harm would have more room to work on her leg. They'd agreed the foot on the toilet wasn't the most comfortable for her, nor a very practical way for Harm to take care of the wounds. If she simply stood and held her skirt high enough to expose the burns, the entire process would go more smoothly. Harm neglected to mention this new, more modest, strategy would be much less stressful for him, too.

"No. I'm saying I persuaded the prisoner not to disrespect a United States Marine." Harm put the cap back on the tube and reached for the gauze.

"Harm there's a fine line between persuasion and assault." Mac bit her lower lip as he wrapped the first layer of gauze around her leg. "That's a little tight," she whispered.

"Sorry." They probably should have had this discussion after he was finished.

"What are you going to tell the General?"

"The truth." Harm taped the gauze in place.

"What about us?" Mac ventured.

"I don't think that's any of his business." Harm wasn't going to mention he wouldn't know what to tell him even if it was. He still wasn't sure what to make of their relationship. How could he possibly fathom explaining it to someone else?

"Can you separate the two things?" Mac dropped the hem she'd been holding and turned her back to Harm, so he could unzip the dress.

"I might have overreacted slightly because you were the officer he'd attacked. But, if it had been Bud, or even Sturgis in that bed fighting for their lives, I still would have been incensed at the prisoner's insolence." Harm lowered the zipper on her dress without her needing to ask.

"Would uh…" Harm hesitated a moment wondering if maybe what he was thinking would be overstepping an already delicate boundary, but he quickly decided not to let himself play those mind games. "Would it help if I unsnapped your bra for you?"

"Anxious to show off your one-handed maneuvers?" Mac couldn't resist teasing.

"Maac." Harm knew he was blushing. Just because she was right and he could probably unsnap any bra ever designed with only one hand, didn't mean he wanted to be reminded of that now.

"Yes, thank you. It would help if you don't mind," Mac smiled to herself. The horrible awkwardness that had threatened to suffocate them just this morning was nowhere to be found.

Using both hands, just to prove a point, Harm unsnapped her bra letting his fingers rest against her bare back for a few seconds longer than he probably should have. Brushing her hair out of the way, Harm placed a barely there kiss at the base of her neck before stepping back. "I'll go get your nightgown."

"Thank you," Mac whispered so softly, she wasn't even sure Harm heard her. Her entire body was tingling from the brief touch of his lips.

"Here you go." Harm reached his arm into the bathroom, the flannel nightie hanging in front of her. "I'm going to go clean the kitchen, whistle if you need anything else."

Mac listened to the sound of his footsteps until he closed the bedroom door behind him. She almost wished she would never recover just to be able to keep him around. But then again, she was really looking forward to the day when she'd be strong enough, as Lauren Bacall had so eloquently put it, to 'put her lips together and blow' for what she really needed.

**Chapter 22**

**JAG headquarters**

**Next morning**

Harm reported for duty at 1030 hours. Removing his cover, he stood waiting at Petty Officer Coates' desk.

"Good morning, sir. It's good to see you," she beamed.

"Good morning, Jen."

"How is the Colonel doing?" Jen stepped around her desk and started towards the General's door.

"She's doing much better, thank you."

"He's been waiting for you." Knocking on the door, Jen waited patiently for the General to call for her. She'd learned her lesson about entering his office too quickly. She didn't need a brick wall to fall on her.

"Send him in, Petty Officer," his voice resounded through the door.

"Good luck, sir," Jennifer whispered before opening the door to let Harm into the lion's den.

"Reporting as ordered, sir." Harm stood stiffly at attention.

"Do you have any idea how much flack I'm taking for your actions?" Cresswell spat from behind his desk.

"No, sir," Harm answered, still standing at attention.

"A senior JAG officer, who also happens to be a decorated Naval officer, attacks an unarmed prisoner without provocation. I have heard from so much brass in the last forty eight hours I've been blinded by the glare!"

"Yes, sir." This wasn't going the way Harm had anticipated. He hadn't expected Cresswell to be annoyed enough to leave him standing at attention.

"Want to tell me your side of the story?" Cresswell stood up and walked around to the front of his desk.

"I was interrogating the prisoners that were reported to have been witness to the original complaint. Of the three witnesses Colonel MacKenzie found willing to state they'd seen mistreatment, one recanted and the other two's stories were so similar it was obvious they'd been scripted."

"That much I read in your report," Cresswell interrupted, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yes, sir. We were interviewing the last prisoner. It was obvious, despite my lack of knowledge of Arabic, that he was being uncooperative. When I insisted the Sergeant translate, I was informed the prisoner had made disparaging remarks about Colonel MacKenzie."

"That's when you attacked him?"

"No, sir. I approached him rather… closely." Harm chose his words carefully.

"Approached him?" Cresswell repeated sarcastically.

"Yes, sir. The prisoner had his back against the wall when I informed him he was at no time to disrespect any officer in the United States military. After the Sergeant had successfully translated my message, I retrieved my belongings and left the room."

"You did not strike the prisoner at any time?" Cresswell was beginning to consider the possibility that Commander Roberts' assessment of Rabb's behavior might be more accurate than he'd given Bud credit for.

"No, sir."

"Did you threaten him?" Cresswell dropped his arms to his side.

"I informed him if he disrespected ANY United States military personnel he would answer to me personally, but I was not specific, sir."

"In other words, you threatened him." For a flash of an instant, Cresswell's voice bore a surprising resemblance to that of Admiral Chegwidden.

"I prefer to think of it as 'sharing information,' sir." Harm tried to ignore the deep furrow that had just formed in the General's brow.

"Did this prisoner strike you?"

"No, sir."

"Did he threaten you in any way?"

"Not that I am aware of, sir. But I also was aware of the prisoner's previously violent outburst, and was cautious not to be caught off guard as Colonel MacKenzie had been."

"You knew he was violent?"

"I knew of his attack on the Colonel, yes, sir."

"Are you saying you were behaving in self-defense?"

"No, sir. I'm saying I was prepared to defend myself if necessary. It was not necessary. The prisoner did not dispute my information."

"Yes, information." Damn, Cresswell had to admit Rabb was good. "You clearly did not threaten him?"

"No, sir. If I'd have threatened him, I would have made it crystal clear that I would snap his scrawny little neck in two if he ever gave any trouble to another marine, SIR."Harm didn't realize he still had it in him, or his back, to remain at attention this long.

As if reading Rabb's mind, Cresswell ordered, "At ease," biting back his own laughter. He never thought he'd see the day when a squid would defend a jarhead with so much fervor. "I thought the Marines were supposed to be the Navy's ground support, Rabb. Not the other way around."

"Yes, sir." Harm wasn't sure, but it looked to him like Cresswell was turning the corner.

"You realize if Sergeant Kepo comes back with anything even minutely different from what you and Gunnery Sergeant Billings have reported, there is no way I can prevent HQ JAG involvement and most likely an article 32?" Cresswell was slowly making up his mind. Rabb was indeed an impassioned officer who was willing to push the envelope and bend the rules, but not break them. You didn't get the amount of medals this guy wore without being willing to push your limits.

"Yes, sir."

"Have a seat, Rabb." Cresswell took a seat behind his desk.

Harm sat stiffly in the chair. He was confident he'd been accurate in his assessment of having swayed the General to his side, but he was apprehensive about what would be coming next.

"The only bright spot in this horrid mess is that Commander Manetti seems to be in your corner and for whatever reason, she has the SECNAV's ear."

"Yes, sir."

"You already know that?"

"About the SECNAV? Yes, sir. It was he who recommended the Commander to our office a few years ago, and when a former colleague made some serious and erroneous accusations regarding Admiral Chegwidden and his command. Commander Manetti came to our rescue." Harm couldn't help the smile that crept onto one side of his face.

"I see." This could be his ace in the hole. "The Commander seems to be unswerving in her support for you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me. I'm not the one singing your praises."

"Yes, sir. Understood." That's it Rabb, open mouth, insert foot.

"Tell me, Rabb, is it the cologne you wear? After shave maybe, shampoo? Perhaps a particular brand of deodorant or toothpaste?"

"Excuse me, sir?" Harm had no idea what the General was rambling on about.

"Petty Officer Coates, Commander Roberts, and now Commander Manetti. Is there anyone you work with who isn't at least a little fascinated by you?"

Harm sat completely speechless. Visions of Megan in California telling him he made women fall in love with him cluttered what was left of his mind.

"Commander?" Cresswell was thoroughly amused by Harm's look of complete and total bewilderment.

"No disrespect intended, sir, but I believe you have overestimated my effect on people."

"Yes. Well, Commander Manetti informs me that Sergeant Kepo is expected back at base in the next 72 hours. Once she gets his corroborating statement, Colonel Howell will forward the report to Colonel Thompson at the prison, and myself. I will then forward a copy to the remaining brass who want your ass on a skewer."

"Yes, sir." Harm tried not to flinch at that last mind picture.

"If Kepo's report varies even slightly with what we already have, I have no choice but to send your protégé, Roberts, to investigate further. The brass won't settle for anything less than senior staff from JAG headquarters."

"Understood, sir."

"Good. Now tell me, exactly what is going on with you and my chief of staff?"

** Chapter 23**

Harm felt every inch of his skin cringe. If only Cresswell understood what a loaded question that was!

"Well, Commander?" Rabb's need for time to carefully form his thoughts only succeeded in fueling what Cresswell had already concluded.

"The Colonel is in no condition to care for herself completely without assistance, sir. I am her oldest, and most likely, closest friend. In a few more days, she'll be able to tend to her injuries unassisted and I'll be able to return to full duty." 'A few more days.' He hadn't really considered the truth in that. Mac was moving more easily now, and the doctor had told them from the beginning that her burns would only require special care for about three weeks. Harm was filled with a sudden surge of terror at no longer having an excuse to be with her, a horrible feeling of emptiness settling in its place.

Cresswell studied the man before him, his eyes a glass wall. Whatever was going through Harm's mind, Cresswell was unable to read it.

"Rabb, I like the Colonel. She's a good marine and a good lawyer, but I'm not going to risk my career over a nasty remark. That's the reaction of a man, not a colleague."

"I'm occasionally overprotective where the Colonel's concerned, sir. She's been through a lot in her life."

"Yes." Cresswell paused to consider his next words. "Rabb, I don't particularly give a rat's ass what two grown adults do in their off-duty hours. I do, however, care if it's going to in any way affect this office." Cresswell fell silent reading Harm's reaction.

"Yes, sir."

"I have been assured and reassured that your relationship with the Colonel, especially in this office, has always been nothing but professional. I myself have observed nothing that I could consider even remotely questionable behavior. I have, however, also concluded if you two are just friends, I'm Admiral Percy. I'm not accusing you of any impropriety, but there's something else going on here and I want to know about it before it becomes my problem." Cresswell sat back, his arms folded, prepared to hear a long story.

Harm took a deep breath and drew on his best skills as a litigator to present his closing arguments.

"Sir, the Colonel and I have run the gamut from an inexplicable life saving bond to barely speaking to each other. We've been shot at and shot down. Our friendship has survived oceans and continents, foreigners, blondes, and spies. I can only assure you that we have never crossed the line in an intimate sense, and if for some reason we ever reach a point in our lives where something changes and our relationship takes on a more permanent nature, I will most definitely give you a heads up." Harm took a deep breath and prayed that would be enough for Cresswell. He had every intention of informing his commanding officer about his relationship with Mac. He just needed a little more time to get a handle on exactly what that relationship was going to be. For all he knew, things could turn out very differently when all returned to normal. It wouldn't be the first time things didn't work out the way he'd wanted with Mac once the dust had settled.

"You haven't told her, have you?" Cresswell asked, his arms still crossed in front of him.

"Excuse me, sir?" Harm's face clearly showed his confusion.

"You haven't told her you're in love with her." Cresswell unfolded his arms and leaned forward. "You don't need to answer that. I have no right, nor any intention, of interfering in your personal life or the personal lives of any of my staff. I will, however, take the liberty of saying this much: you are most definitely in love with Colonel MacKenzie. Whether you know it, or admit it to yourself, or anyone else, I don't want to know, but I will give you this small piece of advice. Women like that do not come along every day, and if you don't tell her how you feel, and what you want soon, you'll wake up one day and find yourself too old for the dream." Cresswell sat back in his chair.

"I'll expect a report on MacKenzie's condition by Friday, along with when we can expect you back on full duty."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Is there any reason why you or she could not do some minor case review in the meantime?"

"No, sir. We've been playing a lot of scrabble. I think the Colonel would appreciate a chance to do some real work."

"Very well, I'll have some cases delivered to the Colonel's apartment sometime this afternoon."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Harm was eternally grateful that this inquisition into his and Mac's personal lives was over so quickly.

"Dismissed," Cresswell ordered gruffly.

"Aye, sir." Harm stood up and hurried to exit the room.

"Oh, and Commander?"

"Yes, sir?" Harm reluctantly turned to face the General.

"Remember everything I told you. Give it some serious thought, and make sure I'm not the last to know when you figure it all out." Cresswell looked back down at a stack of papers on his desk. He was sure he couldn't possibly be the only person to have given Rabb that particular advice. Almost losing the woman you love can sometimes be just the catalyst a stubborn man needs, along with a little prodding from his boss. Maybe this time Rabb was finally scared enough to do something about his feelings for MacKenzie. There was no doubt in Cresswell's mind that their feelings were a two-way street.

"Yes, sir." Harm stood briefly at attention, then turned on his heel. He couldn't get out of the office, and home to Mac, fast enough. Home to Mac, now that was an incredible thought. He knew everything the General had said was correct. He had admitted he loved and needed Mac to himself a long time ago. He had tried in his own way to tell her at the admiral's dinner, but it was too much too soon. He could only hope things were finally changing.

So many things were racing through Harm's mind on the drive home. He hadn't really paid attention to schedules, but this was already day three since Mac had been released from the hospital. He was fairly sure the three weeks of treatment with antibiotic ointment would be finished in a few more days. Despite her lingering soreness, without the need to clean and dress the burns there was no reason for Harm to stay around. Deep down, he was terrified that when Mac was back in full marine mode, they would revert to the holding pattern they'd been in since summer, washing away all the progress since Christmas and Iraq.

Now he was even more anxious to get home to Mac. In a few more days home would be an empty loft on the other side of town. Stepping more heavily on the gas pedal, Harm was determined not to waste any more time than necessary away from her side.

**Mac's apartment**

**Georgetown**

Harm let himself into the apartment. Glancing quickly into the room, he dropped his cover on top of the armoire and took off his coat.

"Mac, I'm back." Draping his coat over the back of a chair, he resisted the urge to call out, 'Honey, I'm home!'

"I'm in here," Mac called from the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Coming up behind her, Harm wrapped his arms carefully around her waist.

"Fixing lunch. You haven't eaten yet have you?" Mac continued chopping peppers.

"What are you making?" Resting his chin on her shoulder, he peeked over at the counter.

"Cheese and broccoli soup, and salad." She smiled broadly, even though he couldn't see her face.

"It smells wonderful, and so do you." His nose sniffed into her neck. She smelled like almonds and vanilla. Without thinking, his lips began nibbling at the exposed spot above her shirt collar.

When Mac dropped the knife in the sink with a loud clunk, Harm jumped back abruptly.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." Searching her hands for any sign of blood, Harm finally looked up into her eyes.

"Would you stop apologizing." Mac picked up the knife again.

"What happened?" Harm was completely confused.

"That felt nice, chopping vegetables didn't seem so important anymore," she shrugged.

"Really?" Harm wrapped his arms around her again. Maybe his fears were unfounded. There was no way he would have felt free to hold her this way a few weeks ago, and she most definitely was not pushing him away anymore.

"I guess you're growing on me," Mac chuckled.

"Then you won't mind if I do this?" Taking the knife out of her hand and setting it down on the counter, he carefully turned her around and pulled her into his arms, his lips gravitating instinctively towards hers.

Without thinking, Mac raised her left arm to snake around Harm's neck and promptly let out a sharp whimper, pulling her arm back down to her side, simultaneously breaking the kiss.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. Now what did I do?" Harm was afraid to touch her.

"Not you, me. I forgot about my shoulder. I should have left my hands on your hips." Her head dropped to rest on Harm's chest, her breathing heavy from the pain. "God, I hate this."

"What?" Drawing soothing circles on Mac's back, Harm tried not to let himself think the worst; that he had been wrong in his previous assessment and something about this new, closer relationship might be upsetting her.

"Feeling fine one minute and so broken the next."

Harm didn't know what to say. He hated seeing her in pain, and he especially hated that his selfish desires had prompted this pain. He was simply going to have to stop thinking with his hormones. Somehow.

**Chapter 24**

"How's your shoulder feeling now?" Harm asked between spoonfuls of soup.

"Better, thanks. It doesn't really bother me at all, so long as I don't lift it any higher than this." Mac raised her arm straight out to show Harm.

"I know you don't want me to say it, but I really am sorry."

"I told you it wasn't your fault. Why don't you tell me how it went with the General instead?"

"Not quite what I expected. Manetti and the SECNAV are on my side. I think Howell is sitting on the fence, but leaning in my direction."

"He's a good man, Harm. He'll handle the situation fairly." Mac took a sip of her soup, silently thankful for how much better her arm was feeling.

"I got the impression he's what stopped this from going directly to an article 32." Harm stabbed his fork at a piece of lettuce. "Kepo is out on special ops maneuvers. He's expected back within 72 hours. If his story jives with the rest of ours, this whole thing will be behind us by Monday."

"Is there any reason his story wouldn't match?" Mac set her spoon down in the bowl and stared pointedly at Harm. She knew from their conversation the other night that he was holding something back.

"No, there shouldn't be." Harm was playing mindlessly with his soup. Apparently Billings, like Harm, had neglected to mention in his report that the prisoner was not standing against the wall of his own accord, but held there with the aid of Harm's hand on his throat. If Kepo mentioned that little tidbit of information in his report, there'd be no way to avoid an article 32.

"Then what's eating at you?" It was Mac's turn to stab at the salad.

"Cresswell asked what was going on with us." Harm caught her eyes without raising his head all the way.

"What did you say?"

"As little as possible."

"Harm?"

"Mac, I'm not sure I understand what's happening right now, or what will happen when you don't need me here anymore. I told him we were the best of friends, we've never slept together, at least not in the biblical sense, and if that were to change I'd let him know."

All the color had drained from Mac's face, and her eyes were bugging out of her head. "You said THAT?"

"Well, not in those exact words, but that was more or less the drift of the conversation," Harm shrugged. "He's also sending over some case files for us to work on. He wants an update on your status after you see the doctor on Friday." Harm didn't want to discuss that aspect of their lives just yet.

"He went from our lack of sexual relations to working a case load, just like that?" Mac snapped her fingers. She couldn't believe Harm had actually discussed their personal lives so casually with their CO.

"Pretty much, yeah. What time is your appointment Friday?" Harm really, really didn't want to go there now. He needed to redirect this conversation, and quickly.

"Eleven hundred hours." Still stunned, Mac was slowly resigning herself to the situation.

Harm flashed a quick smile. "I have a question for you."

"Shoot." She was having a hard time shifting gears. How could Harm be so calm? How could he discuss their sex lives, or lack thereof, with their CO?

"Why do you smell so delicious?"

Mac blushed several different shades of red. "Harm!"

"I'm serious. Yesterday you smelled like your shampoo, sour apples. Now you smell like almonds and vanilla."

"You noticed?" Once again Mac's spoon was resting still in the bowl. All concerns over the General were completely gone.

"Yes." Harm's voice dropped lower than he intended. "I notice everything about you."

Positive the blush was rising in her cheeks again, Mac dropped her gaze and poked at her salad. "I filled the tub with a few inches of warm water, poured in some almond vanilla bath oils, then I put the kitchen step stool in the tub and climbed in. I just wanted to feel really clean."

"MAC! Why didn't you wait until I was back? You're not that steady on your right leg, and you could have hurt yourself badly if you'd slipped and fallen."

"And what would you have done? Held my hand?" Mac stifled a laugh.

"No, but if anything had gone wrong at least I would have been here."

"That's right, on the other side of a locked door. I'm okay. Nothing happened to me, but thank you for your concern." Mac rolled her eyes and took another bite of salad.

It was futile arguing with a marine. Harm resolved simply to not leave her alone again, and finished the rest of his lunch buried in idle chitchat.

By mid-afternoon Petty Officer Coates had dropped off a mountain of paperwork. Harm and Mac spent the next two days watching TV and plowing through case files. Ever since the incident in the kitchen, Harm had refrained from even the most modest of pecks on the cheek. It was one thing knowing his advances were welcome, but it was entirely another thing having them cause her pain. They had developed a smooth morning and bedtime routine, any awkwardness or embarrassment had been left by the wayside days ago. Harm had waited all these years to be free to touch her at will. He could wait a little longer.

Every day Mac was moving with increasing agility. Even Harm had to admit in just the last five days, the burns on her leg seemed to have made as much progress as they had in the previous two weeks. The dark red color had faded, leaving a blotchy pink pattern in its stead. The blisters had almost completely disappeared, and even the scar from the shrapnel wound seemed less frightening.

**Bethesda Hospital**

**Friday late morning**

Sitting in the waiting room while Mac was inside with the doctor, Harm's mind kept drifting off to visions of Mac that morning. He'd gone to sleep in his t-shirt and sweats, as he'd done every night for the last five days. He'd noticed Mac had to be feeling better because she would wake up in slightly different positions from how she'd fallen asleep the night before. The first two nights they were home she hadn't moved an inch. The next night, she bent her right knee towards Harm, and stretched her arm out between them. Then the following night, she had actually rolled slightly onto her right side, but this morning was the most startling. Mac had actually scooted only a few inches away from him, her left arm, bad shoulder and all, rested heavily on his chest.

He had, much to his own surprise, found himself waking up every morning in exactly the same position he'd fallen asleep in; on his back, hugging the edge of the bed. His fear of moving and somehow hurting Mac outweighed his body's tendency to toss and turn through the night.

Harm was flipping through another magazine, not paying any attention to what he was looking at, when he saw Mac coming through the door. Immediately he stood up, but stopped himself from approaching her. It was probably best if he let her come to him. He didn't want to crowd her, especially not now.

"Judging by that grin on your face, all is well?" Harm placed his hand at the small of her back as she walked past him.

"Burns are healing perfectly, according to Dr. Schmell. I can suspend the ointment and bandages but need to continue the oral antibiotics for another ten days. I can start physical therapy anytime, and look…" Mac held her cast free wrist, now wrapped in an ace bandage, up in the air. "He thought I might need an air cast for a couple more weeks, but the x-rays looked good, and best of all, I'm authorized to return to work on Monday if I want." Mac was bubbling over with excitement like a kid in a candy store.

"That soon?" Harm still had his hand on her back as they entered the elevator.

"Well, it wouldn't be full time. I'm only authorized for half days. Dr. Schmell is estimating three weeks of therapy before I'll be able to return to full duty. I've got an appointment next Thursday to see how I'm progressing." Mac was grinning from ear to ear as they stepped off the elevator. She was still sore, and had aches and pains, but she was so ready to have her life back.

"What do you say to a celebratory lunch, anyplace you want?" Harm wasn't going to let Mac see how disappointed he was that this would be his last day staying in her apartment.

"Café Italia. I have a sudden urge for fettuccini alfredo." Mac grinned up at Harm before climbing into the car.

"And after lunch, you can call in the good news to Cresswell." Harm closed the car door behind her, oblivious to the ashen look on her face.

'Cresswell,' Mac sighed to herself. That was one conversation she was not looking forward to.

**Chapter 25**

Harm had just taken the last bite of his chicken when the loud chirping of his cell phone echoed through the restaurant.

"Rabb."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but the General wants you to report to his office ASAP," Petty Officer Coates informed Harm reluctantly.

"Did he say what about?"

"No, sir."

"Very well, I'm having lunch. I'll dash home for my uniform and be there within the hour."

"I'll tell the General to expect you shortly." Coates hung up the phone with a sigh. The General was in a crusty mood.

Putting his phone back in his jacket pocket, Harm looked up at Mac. "Cresswell wants me in the office right away."

"So I gathered. Any idea why?"

"Coates didn't know."

"Do you think it has something to do with Kepo? Maybe he's back and has made his report." Mac fiddled nervously with the food on her plate while Harm flagged down the waitress, signaling for the check.

"Could be," Harm shrugged.

"So, this should all be behind us soon?" Mac watched the waitress drop the check on the table

"If there aren't any more problems, yes." Harm read the tab quickly, pulled a few bills from his wallet, and dropped them on the table.

"Why would there be any more problems?" Mac reached for her purse and slowly raised herself out of the chair.

"No reason." Extending his hand, Harm stepped around to escort Mac out of the restaurant.

Stiffening her shoulders, Mac dug her heels into the floor. "What aren't you telling me?"

"What?" Harm was momentarily startled by her odd behavior before it dawned on him what she was implying. "I was thinking about paying the bill, calculating how long it's going to take to drop you off at your place, get back to mine for a clean uniform, and then back to headquarters. There's nothing covert going on here. I promise." He nudged her along.

"You're right. I'm sorry. Why do you need to go home for a clean uniform?" Mac scolded herself silently for overreacting.

Looking at her a little oddly. "Are you suggesting I show up in a dirty uniform, or perhaps in my jeans?" Holding the door, Harm watched Mac walk past. She really was moving more easily, he thought.

"Harm, you've got a uniform at my place." Mac looked at him, truly astonished that he had forgotten that fact. He'd just picked the uniform up with a few of her things from the dry cleaner yesterday.

"Gees, that's right. Well, good, you just shaved about 40 minutes off my flight plan." Harm flashed her a grin, hoping to relieve her concerns. If the huge smile on her face was any indication, he hadn't lost the old flyboy charm yet.

**Mac's apartment **

**Twenty minutes later**

Thoughts of what the General wanted that couldn't wait until Monday played back and forth in his mind. He'd showered in record time, and was now shaving when he thought he heard sounds coming from the bedroom. Turning his lather-covered face, he noticed Mac frozen just inside the bedroom door.

"I…I'm sorry. I just wanted to change out of these clothes. I thought you would still be in the shower." She hadn't expected to find the bathroom door open. Although he was already dressed in his trousers and a t-shirt, Mac couldn't help but feel she had somehow invaded his privacy. Her brain shouted at her to move, but she couldn't. Fascinated, she stood watching Harm shave.

"No problem. I'll be done in a minute." Waving his razor in the air, he turned back towards the mirror.

Without any conscious effort, Mac found herself slowly moving closer to the bathroom door. Her eyes were drawn to Harm's bulging biceps, as though pulled by some unseen magnetic force. She couldn't have looked away if she'd wanted to. It had been a long time since she'd allowed herself the indulgence of just watching his exquisite form. Time had filled out what was once a lean frame, but he was still a magnificent sight. Leaning against the doorframe, she couldn't help but wish that she were that razor, gripped firmly between his long fingers and skillfully gliding across his rough skin.

"Do you think the reason fewer men need facelifts has something to do with shaving?" Mac had no idea where that thought came from, but her mouth was open and the words had tumbled out before her brain could engage.

"What?" Harm tapped the razor against the sink and glanced in her direction, obviously confused.

"I mean, all the contortions you have to put your face through to shave. Maybe all that 'exercising' actually helps keep the facial muscles from sagging." Not that she could picture anything of his ever sagging.

"Could be." A little confused by the odd conversation, Harm rinsed off the razor and set it down on the side of the sink.

"It looks good on you." Mac's mouth was engaging without her brain again.

"The shaving cream?" Harm grabbed a towel and wiped down his face.

"My bathroom. You look comfortable." A bright red blush flushed her face.

"Maybe too comfortable," Harm mumbled.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, Mac." He turned around and grabbed his shirt off the hanger.

"Don't, Harm. We're finally learning to really talk to each other, don't stop now. What did you mean?"

"Okay." Harm shrugged into his shirt. "I like it here, very much. Maybe too much." He moved closer to where Mac was standing as he buttoned his shirt. "The only problem is, according to your doctor, it doesn't look like you'll be needing me around here anymore."

Mac's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't thought about that. She'd been so happy to move forward in her treatment, it hadn't occurred to her that it might mean leaving Harm out of it. A cold chill shot through her. She didn't want to do this without him.

Stalling for time, she turned around by the bed and picked up Harm's tie. Spinning around slowly, she found him standing right in front of her. "Here's your tie," she whispered awkwardly, stretching her hand into his hard chest.

Mac was standing so close Harm could feel her breath against his chin. "Thanks." He wanted desperately to sweep her into his arms and beg her to let him stay, now and forever, but he was going to have to deal with his feelings on his own. Even though they'd become more comfortable with each other, pushing too hard, too fast was still something he had to be careful to avoid.

"Maybe we should talk about this." Mac bit lightly on her lower lip.

"Cresswell's waiting, there's no time now." Taking half a step back, giving himself some much-needed space, Harm let his hand momentarily caress her shoulder before abruptly pulling away.

"Shall we finish this conversation over dinner? I'll cook." Mac tried to smile.

"I'd like that, but I don't want you cooking. If I'm not back in time to help with dinner, I'll pick something up on the way home." Tightening the knot on his tie, Harm's heart skipped a beat when Mac reached forward to straighten it for him.

"Works for me, sailor." It took all her restraint not to run her fingers down the front of his shirt and undo all those little white buttons. Of course, it made more sense to try a bold move like that when she would actually be in physical shape to follow through.

Tugging slightly on the tie, Mac leaned up and kissed his lips as lightly and tenderly, as she could, hoping she could convey everything she couldn't find the words to tell him. "I'll be waiting for you."

"I won't be long." Tingling from his head to his toes, Harm drew on all his years of military discipline to walk away.

**Chapter 26**

**General Cresswell's office**

**HQ**

"It seems Commander James Gatling has decided to assist the Navy in retiring its F-14s. This morning he flew his tomcat and RIO into the 'drink,' as you Navy people like to say. While on target for approach to the Seahawk he lost radio contact, overshot the deck, and flew straight into the water. His RIO managed to eject but hasn't regained consciousness. I want you there when he does."

"And the pilot, sir?"

Cresswell shook his head no. "Petty Officer Coates has some background information for you. You'll be delivering a replacement bird that's been ferried to Andrews from Oceana." Noticing the twinkle in Harm's eyes. Cresswell almost growled, "Don't look so unhappy." then checked his watch, "You're ride is waiting, Commander. Dismissed."

"Aye, aye, sir." Coming briefly to attention, Harm turned on his heel already working through a checklist of things to do.

**Mac's apartment building**

**A short while later**

Debating with himself, Harm hesitated outside Mac's door. Should he use the key as he'd been doing all week, or was it time to go back to ringing the bell? He hadn't moved out yet, though if he wanted to get technical about it, he had never really moved into her apartment either. He was more of a houseguest.

He hated that thought: being a guest in Mac's life. He wanted to be a part of her life, a big part of it. He wanted to belong here. Pulling the key out of his pocket, he slid it into the lock and quickly turned the latch.

"Honey, I'm home!" This time he couldn't resist teasing as he closed the door behind him.

"Did you bring dinner?" Mac set the book she was reading down on the table, grinning inwardly at his bold announcement.

"I didn't have time." Walking very slowly across the room, Harm sat next to Mac.

Something was wrong, she could feel it.

"Not planning on staying?" she tried to tease, pointing to the overcoat he was still wearing.

"I… I have to catch a plane." Stretching his hand out, he took hold of Mac's. "There's been an incident with a tomcat. I'm being sent out to the Seahawk to investigate. I had to stop at my place to pack a bag. I know we were supposed to have dinner and talk… if you still want to, talk that is, when I get back… I …"

"I'll be waiting for you," Mac interrupted. The electricity surging between their hands was warming her entire body. She'd been a nervous wreck killing time waiting for Harm to get back from Ops. Part of her had worried about what the General wanted, while the other part was concerned over how this conversation was going to go. It looked like it didn't matter either way. Her worst fear was about to become her reality. She was going to have to get used to being alone again.

"I took the liberty of speaking with Bud about your therapy. Now that he and Harriet have hired a nanny to help with the twins, she'll be able to take you to your therapy appointments until I get back. That is, if you want me to… I mean… if you still need…well, help."

"Thank you." Mac didn't dare say anything else. This wasn't what she had prepared herself for, and she didn't think she could take dragging this conversation out any longer. She also didn't think she could let go of his hand. It had been her lifeline so often these last few weeks.

"Jen is also bringing over a pizza," Harm tossed out at the last minute, letting go of her hand and getting up.

"Harm?" Mac stood up beside him.

"Okay, shoot me. I wanted to make sure you ate something and since I knew I wouldn't have time for an extra stop if I wanted to come say goodbye, I called Jen and asked her to bring a pizza over on her way home. It might be nice if you invited her in to eat." A Rabb grin slowly crept up one side of his face.

Mac swung her arm to smack him playfully and unexpectedly lost her balance, landing squarely against Harm's chest with a thud.

Instinctively his arms snaked around her, helping with her balance and indulging in the sweet pleasure of her soft body pressed against his.

"Oh, Mac," he groaned. Unable to help himself, he dragged her more tightly against him, their lips met in a clashing of desire. His heart racing frantically, his hands slid down her back lightly caressing her six, before swirling upward again. All the blood in his veins quickly flooded in another direction altogether.

A fleeting memory of needing to leave, of being late, and of his beloved tomcat waiting, had just begun to take hold of his thoughts when Mac let her hand drop to Harm's six and none too gently pushed his hips into hers. All coherent thought escaped with the gush of air that rushed from his lungs.

If it hadn't been for the sound of the doorbell, and the light knock that followed, Harm would have been willing to face any charges the Navy could think of to stay in this woman's arms.

"Colonel, are you there?" Jennifer Coates called through the door.

Mac pulled her lips away from Harm's and called over his shoulder, "Coming, Jen." Straightening her clothing, and taking a deep breath, she backed away slowly. Harm turned and headed for the door, thankful for his winter coat.

"Oh, Commander, I didn't realize you were still here." Jen wasn't sure exactly what to make of the delay. She knew the Colonel was convalescing, but still, what could possibly have taken them both so long to get to the door?

Harm immediately sensed her unease, "Sorry, we were just putting a few things together. I need to go, or I'll be late. Make sure she eats something." Harm waved a finger at Jen. Jen and Harriet had both promised to check up on the Colonel during his stay on the Seahawk, but he hadn't seen any need to mention that to Mac.

"Yes, sir. I'll make sure she's all tucked in safe and sound before I leave, sir." Jen smiled broadly at Harm before shooting an apologetic glance in Mac's direction.

"We'll pick up the other matters when I get back." Harm's words were more of a question than mere commentary. They had so much to say before, and so much more to cover now.

"I'll look forward to it." More than he could possibly know, she smiled demurely. Not a single muscle, burn or stitch was hurting her at the moment. Oh, yes… she most definitely would be looking forward to his return.

**Chapter 27**

**USS Seahawk**

"Commander Rabb, I gather you've given up landing transports on carriers?" Captain Johnson nodded. He was glad to see Rabb on his ship again, but not under the current circumstances.

"Yes, sir." Harm stifled a chuckle.

"It's good to see you in uniform this time."

"It's good to be back, sir."

"I want to know what happened, Commander." Johnson got straight to the point

"Has Lt. Benson regained consciousness yet?"

"No, and he's the only one with all the answers. We lost communication on final approach. There's no way we can retrieve any of the bird in these waters. It looks like you'll have your work cut out for you, Commander, but I've learned to expect the unexpected from you."

"I'll do my best, sir. Permission to leave the bridge?"

"Granted." Johnson watched Harm make his way out the hatch. He had been more than pleased to hear Rabb would be the one investigating this.

Harm made his first trip to sick bay to check on the RIO's progress.

"What's the prognosis?" he asked the doctor.

"Pretty much what you'd expect from punching out. He wasn't in the water very long, so hypothermia's not an issue. He's pretty banged up, but nothing's broken. The bullet wound was minor. He could wake up any minute or in a few days. We just have to wait and see."

"Bullet wound?" This wasn't what Harm had expected.

"It was minor," the doctor shrugged.

"Why did he have a bullet wound?" Nothing in the report Coates had given him at Ops, or anything in Captain Johnson's comments, had indicated that the RIO had suffered any non-crash related injuries.

"Didn't anyone tell you? They took fire on that last run and were flying home in an injured bird." The doctor seemed surprised that Harm hadn't been told, but not as surprised as Harm looked.

"Thanks, Doc. Looks like I need to talk with a few other people." Harm nodded and turned down the hall. He had a long list of people to interview, starting with Gatling's wingman.

The more people Harm spoke with, the more the possibilities were mounting. Radio communication was sketchy after they'd taken fire. At the time both the pilot and the RIO reported being fine, but if the RIO had been shot, it was entirely possible that the pilot had been more seriously wounded as well.

The radio only working intermittently could have explained why the pilot didn't report all the pertinent facts. Either he reported only the information he considered priority, or maybe he had thought everything had been received.

During final approach, it appeared that all systems were working fine for landing, but when the radio went out permanently at the last minute, any other number of instruments could have gone out along with it. Gatling could have simply lost control and had no choice but to ditch.

Over the next couple of days Harm interviewed the wingman, the crew on the deck who watched the flyby, the mechanics who worked on the plane before take off, and anyone who ever shared so much as a smile with the two officers in the last six months. Harm had seen the computer re-enactments, and listened to the tapes of the mission over and over until he could recite them in his sleep. He'd drawn his own conclusions, but the only one who could give him definitive answers showed no signs of waking up anytime soon.

**JAG Headquarters**

**Monday afternoon**

Coates hung around to eat dinner and watch movies with Mac until late Friday night. When Jen refused to leave until she had climbed into bed, Mac couldn't help but laugh. "I promised the Commander, and he's one person I don't plan on breaking my word to," Jen insisted.

The weekend went by quickly, without any catches. Mac was moving around well by herself. Harriet and Bud had come by and picked her up so she could spend most of Saturday afternoon and evening at their house. Chloe called every morning to make sure she was doing well. Coates called Sunday to see if she wanted company, and of course Harm had called every day at least once to report in. Mac knew he was really checking up on her, but she didn't mind. She looked forward to it.

By Monday afternoon, Mac was sitting at her desk wishing the email icon would sound on her computer, when she was distracted by Jennifer's knock at the open door.

"Yes." Mac nodded for Jen to come in.

"I thought you might like to know ma'am. The General just got his report from Iraq on the Commander. Based on further corroborating evidence, Commander Manetti is recommending the dismissal of all charges against Commander Rabb." Jen tried to contain her own enthusiasm. She'd been on pins and needles over this one all week.

"Thank you, Jennifer. Has Commander Rabb been informed yet?"

"I believe he's on the phone with the General now, ma'am."

**General Cresswell's office**

**Same time**

"There are a few ruffled feathers on this end, but the SECNAV knows how to deal with it. What have you got for me on Gatling and Benson?"

"Nothing new, sir. According to the audiotapes from the mission, they took quite a bit of fire, possibly much more than they had indicated in their initial transmissions. Lt. Benson was hit but made no mention of it when reporting to the ship. From what I've been able to put together, I'm leaning towards the theory that Gatling couldn't control the sick bird anymore and had no choice but to ditch her to save the deck crew and his RIO. The only way I can prove that, sir, is if Benson wakes up."

"I see. Well, with Colonel MacKenzie back I don't see any reason why we can't spare you a few more days. We owe Commander Gatling that much."

"Aye, aye, sir." Harm disconnected the call and took a deep breath. There was nothing harder for a pilot than knowing he couldn't keep his plane in the air and that emergency procedures would be unavoidable.

**Mac's office**

**1430 hours**

"I really appreciate your doing this, Harriet." Mac gathered a few files into her briefcase, but hesitated before picking it up. She'd been looking forward all day to starting therapy this afternoon. She was still walking rather slowly and with a heavy limp, the use of her left arm continued to be limited, and she was increasingly desperate to erase all the outward signs of her recent ordeal. She was especially desperate to be back to normal by the time Harm returned from the Seahawk. She'd done a lot of thinking over the weekend, and she'd made up her mind: before anything, or anyone else, came between them, she was going to make it perfectly clear exactly what she wanted from her relationship with Harm.

"Would you like some help with that, ma'am?"

"No, it's not that heavy, thank you." Mac heaved the case off her desk with her right hand and let out a short sigh of relief. Her entire day had been filled with new challenges that tested the limits of her recovery.

"You're sure you don't need some help?" Harriet pushed just a little, extending her hand towards the briefcase in case Mac accepted her offer.

"You sound as bad as Harm, Harriet. I'm fine. Let's go, therapy awaits."

"I've been called a lot of things in my life, but no one has ever compared me to a gorgeous navy pilot before." Harriet couldn't help but giggle as she followed a chuckling Mac out of the office.

"You two sound like you're having way too much fun to be going to physical therapy. You're not holding out on me, are you?" Bud questioned, pleased to see his wife and Mac enjoying their time together.

Harriet and Mac simply rolled their eyes and sauntered past him, leaving an amused but bewildered Bud in their wake.

**Chapter 28**

**Mac's apartment**

**Wednesday evening**

Relaxing back onto the sofa, Mac slowly began to unwind after another physical therapy session. She was scheduled for three sessions a week and had been given an exercise band to do daily strengthening at home. After only three days she could already feel the difference. Still a little sore, she was rearranging the ice pack on her shoulder when the phone rang.

"MacKenzie."

"How was PT?" Harm's low, sexy voice was hot enough to melt the ice on her shoulder, and probably all the ice in Alaska if she really thought about it.

"Good, but it's almost two o'clock in the morning for you. What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Benson hasn't regained consciousness yet?"

"No. If there's no improvement by Friday, they're shipping him home."

Mac could hear the disappointment in his voice. "Does the doctor have any idea why he hasn't woken up yet?"

"None, he said there was no indication of serious head trauma. Some people just take longer to wake up, but I can tell he's starting to worry too."

"Have they at least let you fly one of the babies?" Mac practically cooed over the phone, teasing him.

"Well…"

"I thought so," she chuckled.

"Captain Johnson took pity on me. I think he got tired of watching me pace the…." Harm noticed a corpsman from sickbay stop suddenly beside him and clear his throat. "May I help you?" Harm asked, a tad annoyed at the intrusion.

"Sorry, sir, I've been looking everywhere for you. The Doc says Lt. Benson is stirring, he thought you'd want to be there when he comes to."

Harm's face sprang to life. "I'm on my way!" he told the young man, and then returned to his phone call. "Did you hear that, Mac?"

"Sure did. Let me know how it turns out."

"Sure will! Gotta run. Love you." Harm hung up the phone and bolted down the passageway, suddenly stopping dead in his tracks. Raising his hands to his face, what had he just done? He hadn't meant to spit out he loved her so casually over the phone, an ocean away, and then not even stick around long enough to hear what she might say back. "Damn." He couldn't worry about it now. He had a job to do.

Mac sat staring at the phone in her hands. Well, if she'd had any doubt about how he felt, she shouldn't now. Hanging up the receiver, she continued to stare at it. Could things really, finally be going her way? She knew she wanted to talk to Harm about making some changes in their relationship, maybe this would make that conversation a little easier. Oh, she prayed he'd meant that the way it had sounded.

Harm came barreling down the hall and turned into sickbay. He stopped short at the sight of Lt. Benson sitting up in bed, wide-awake and flirting with one of the nurses. This couldn't possibly be the same man who had been completely unconscious for the last five days. Harm shook his head and laughed softly to himself. Was there no limit to the ego of a Naval aviator?

The doctor grabbed Harm by the arm before he could approach Benson. "He's been talking with Lt. Kraus since he opened his eyes. He doesn't know about Gatling yet."

Harm's face turned instantly somber. "Understood."

Benson stiffened noticeably when Harm approached his bed.

"At ease Lieutenant," Harm swallowed a smirk.

Benson's eyes scanned Harm's uniform, lingering on the wings.

"I suspect it's probably in your best interest to put yours away for a while, at least until you're out of sickbay." Harm glanced over at Lt. Kraus, remembering all too clearly what it was like to be young with a 'gold wings and dress whites' attitude.

"Yes, sir."

"I'm Commander Rabb, from JAG. Are you up to a few questions?"

"Yes, sir." It may have been after two in the morning but Benson was wide-awake and full of energy. Hungry, too.

"I need you to tell me everything about your last flight."

"Have you already spoken to Hooker, sir?"

Harm shook his head, no. "I'm sorry."

"Damn," Benson mumbled under his breath. "His oldest daughter just graduated from Annapolis. Katie's got this new guy she wanted Hooker to meet." Then Benson started to chuckle. "Apparently, he's not military. Hooker wondered how he'd react to an M16." Taking a deep breath, he looked at Harm. "He was looking forward to going home, sir. Said it was time to hang up the helmet. Wanted to be around before the grandchildren started coming."

"Would you like to continue this tomorrow instead?"

"No, sir. You said everything?"

"From the moment you took off."

"Aye, sir." Benson began recounting the flight. Everything had been pretty much a typical run until they began taking fire. As Harm had suspected, the plane was in worse shape than either had initially calculated. The wingman's plane hadn't been hit, so his plane landed first to avoid fouling the deck.

"We could see the ship, Hooker insisted he was okay. I couldn't tell where he'd been hit. I didn't realize how bad it was until I noticed him starting to slur. Hell, I didn't even realize I'd been hit until I saw the blood."

Harm listened carefully. Without Benson's story, there would have been no way for him to know for sure if Gatling had been injured as well.

"We'd been struggling to stay in the air. By the time we reached the ship we knew there had to be more damage than our wingman could see. Everything was flashing, the boards were practically useless, but Hooker seemed to have her under control. He's the best damn pilot I've ever flown backseat with." Benson looked up at Harm, wanting to make sure that much was understood. He wouldn't allow them to make any of this out as Hooker's fault.

"We had no way of confirming if the hook was even down, let alone locked. The plan was to call in for a visual but as we got close enough to call it in, the radio fried out permanently. It was hard enough with the radio cutting on and off. Once we lost the radio completely, everything went black. I have no idea why we could still talk with each other. The communication system between us seemed to be the only thing in that cockpit that DID work. By that point I could hardly understand him, so I knew he was hurt bad. He said he was going to fly around and flash a mayday. By the time we'd gone over the deck, he was shouting at me to eject. The bird was shaking badly." Benson could still hear Gatling's voice as clearly as if he were standing next to him.

'I can't keep her in the air. We can't do another go-around. You've got to punch out. Now! Eject, eject!'

"He veered left away from the ship, the next thing I know, I'm hitting the water and waking up here." Benson let out a heavy sigh and dropped his head back against his pillow.

"That's pretty much what I'd thought." Harm sighed. "I just wasn't sure if Gatling had been hit too. Thank you for your time, Lieutenant. I know this wasn't easy."

Getting up from his chair, Harm signaled for the nurse. He was fairly sure that Benson would be needing a friendly ear right about now. Before heading back to his room, he stopped to make another phone call.

"MacKenzie."

"It's me." Harm sounded terribly drained.

"Everything go okay?"

"Yeah, it's pretty much what I had thought. Turns out the pilot had been shot too. The plane had lost most of its instrumentation. There was probably no way a healthy pilot could have done anything else but ditch her in the water. If he hadn't been hurt, maybe he could have ejected too. I guess that's one we'll never know. At least his family will have the knowledge he probably saved the lives of half the men on the deck by not trying for a landing."

"I'm sure that will be some consolation."

"I hope so, Mac. I really do."

"So does this mean your job is finished there?" she redirected.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm going back to my quarters to work on the final report and will be catching the morning COD out of here."

"Not flying home yourself?" Mac thought Harm sounded like he needed a little cheering up.

"Nope, but I shouldn't be home too late. Do you want me to … uh… call? That is…call you when I get home?"

"Oh, uh…" All right, Mackenzie, don't chicken out now, she thought to herself. Don't repeat past mistakes. Open mouth… you can do it. "Do you think you'll be too tired to come over?"

Harm's heart stuttered, skipping several beats. "No, I think that would be…nice."

"Okay." Mac tried not to squeal with delight. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow night sometime."

"Yeah, see you then." Harm hung the phone up slowly. Neither had mentioned his brisk closing comment at the end of their previous conversation. Next time he saw her, he was going to tell her what she deserved to hear, and he planned to do it properly.

**Chapter 29**

**JAG headquarters**

**Thursday afternoon**

As she had suspected would happen after hanging up with Harm, Mac hadn't gotten much sleep. She found herself tossing and turning. Different scenarios of how tonight might turn out ran over and over in her dreams. Her worst fear was that Harm would take one look at her, scars and all, tell her he couldn't do this, and walk away forever.

It was all nonsense, she knew it was nonsense. He'd seen her at her worst and still wanted her. He hadn't lied about that, she was sure of that much.

"Colonel." General Cresswell knocked on Mac's doorframe.

"Yes, sir." Mac stood quickly.

Cresswell closed the door behind him and took a seat in front of her desk.

Mac paused for a moment. This was probably the first time the General had actually sat down in her office and she had no idea what to make of it.

"I suggest you sit down, too. You'll probably be more comfortable." He'd chosen to have this conversation in her office instead of his, hoping she'd be more at ease on her own turf.

"Yes, sir." Mac sat, thankful she was moving with much more agility these days.

"How are you feeling?"

"Much better, sir, thank you." Mac's shoulders visibly relaxed. This visit was about her health.

"I understand your doctor thinks you can return to a full time schedule earlier than originally expected."

"Yes, sir. I saw him this morning and he sees no reason I can't return to full duty starting Monday." Although she still had several weeks of therapy ahead of her, Mac was especially proud of how far she'd progressed in a short time. It was nice not needing to report to the office until 1300, leaving her mornings free, but she was ready for a real day's work again.

"You realize the release is only for courtroom duty? You won't be allowed on outside investigations, yet."

"Yes, sir. I understand." There was still some concern about her ability to maneuver if she were placed in an unexpectedly dangerous situation. In the past she'd certainly had enough seemingly benign investigations turn into complicated situations. After all, how many people start out investigating three retired SEALs and wind up wrestling with Colombian drug lords?

"Your doctor must think you're ready to handle 'normal' day-to-day activities again." The General placed especially careful emphasis on the word 'normal.'

"It would seem so, sir." What the heck was he trying to get at?

"I understand Commander Rabb is returning this evening?" Cresswell was immediately thankful for the self-control he'd learned through his years with the Marines. Otherwise, he would have burst out laughing at the look on Mac's face. Although her Marine Corps training was probably the only thing that stopped her from passing out, it couldn't prevent all the color from draining out of her face, or her eyebrows from scratching her hairline.

Oh, God! This was the 'not in those exact words,' not having 'slept together in the biblical sense,' conversation that Harm had told her about. She and the General were about to have a non-conversation about her relationship with Harm, or worse, sex life. Oh, God! This was exactly what she'd been dreading all week.

"Yes, sir." This would be a great time to be as brief as possible and plead the fifth whenever necessary.

"You most likely will not be needing the Commander's assistance anymore?"

"No, sir. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." Maybe this conversation wasn't going to be as bad as she thought. Then again, watching the General purse his lips in thought, his chin bobbing slightly as he watched Mac try not to squirm, she accepted she had probably been right in her initial assessment: Oh, God.

"Colonel, have you ever given any thought to why squids don't storm the beaches?"

"Excuse me, sir?" Now, Mac was really confused.

"Squids provide the transport, but it's the marines who take the ground. We're the ones who take the risks of hand-to-hand combat. Advance the troops." He could tell by the expression on her face, this wasn't going the way he wanted.

"I'm afraid I'm not following you, sir."

"Colonel, if you really want to advance your position and experience new territory, the marine in you is going to have to storm that beach." The General gave her a pointed look, glancing casually in the direction of Rabb's office and back to her again. Judging by the way her eyebrows were practically kissing the ceiling, he was fairly sure she'd gotten the message this time.

"Yes, sir." There was no way she was going to inquire further to see if he meant what she thought he meant.

"Very well. It's a long flight, and an exhausting time difference. Tell Rabb not to report until after lunch tomorrow." Cresswell pressed his lips together in a partial smile, and returned to his office. If her shocked expression was any indication, he doubted anyone had ever dared approach MacKenzie about her relationship with Rabb. He had every confidence the marines could get the job done.

Mac wasn't completely sure what had just happened, but it certainly looked like the General had just told her to storm Harm's beach, and then given him the morning off to recover. Oh, God.

**Mac's apartment building **

**2130 hours**

Harm had spent the entire plane ride thinking about what he was going to do and say, and now he'd spent another twenty minutes sitting in front of Mac's building still unsure of the perfect words.

Leaving his cover on the seat beside him, he grabbed the flowers he'd picked up for the occasion, and forced himself to open the car door. One foot at a time, he made his way to Mac's apartment. Taking a deep breath for courage, he reached up with his free hand and knocked loudly on the door.

The sound of Harm knocking startled Mac out of her thoughts. She'd been expecting him to let himself in. Springing up from the sofa, much more adeptly than she could the week before, Mac tightened her robe, took a deep breath for courage, and opened the front door.

"Why didn't you use your key?" she asked casually.

"I… I didn't think I should." Harm was momentarily lost in that beautiful smile. It took him a few seconds to realize that beautiful smile was wearing a satin bathrobe. "Is it too late? Maybe I should have waited until tomorrow to stop by?"

"No, not at all. I'm glad you came. Are those for me?" Mac looked down at the flowers, feeling a little uncomfortable with the way Harm was watching her. She wasn't sure what he was thinking, and she was starting to lose her nerve. Maybe the robe was overkill.

"Yes." Snapped back from his curiosity about her robe, Harm handed her the flowers and smiled.

"Thank you. Make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to drink? Have you eaten?" Mac turned into the kitchen to put the flowers in water.

"Something to drink would be nice. It's the middle of the night for me, I'm not really hungry." Harm placed his coat on the chair and followed Mac into the kitchen. "You're moving much better. I guess PT's been good for you."

"That and time." Mac handed Harm the flower vase. "Would you put those on the table for me please?"

"Sure."

"What can I get you to drink?"

"Water's fine."

"One glass of water coming up." Mac pulled a glass from the cabinet, filled it with water and ice, and headed for her beach. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Harm took a long gulp, then sat down on the sofa. Setting the glass on the table, he looked up at Mac. "Why don't you come sit down? I'd like to talk to you about something."

Debating just how close to Harm she should sit, Mac hesitated before sitting about a foot away from him.

"Before I had to leave town, we were planning on having a conversation," Harm started.

"Why don't you take your jacket off? You must be exhausted." Mac reached forward to help him. "You should probably take your tie off, too," she added hastily.

"Huh? Oh, sure." Not really wanting to be distracted, Harm did as Mac asked, and placed his jacket and tie neatly on the chair by his overcoat. "As I was saying…"

"You should take your shoes off, too," Mac interrupted again.

Harm didn't bother answering, he just kicked his shoes off quickly.

"Mac, are you trying to tell me you don't want to have this discussion?" Harm took her hesitation to sit next to him and her continued interruptions over his clothing, as a signal she was stalling.

"Not exactly." Mac bit her lip. She was a full-grown, adult woman. Why did she feel like an inexperienced teenager who was about to make a fool of herself with the captain of the football team?

**Chapter 30**

"I've been doing a lot of thinking since you left for the Seahawk and I've got a few things I need to tell you." Mac bit her lower lip. She hadn't expected to be this nervous.

"Is this about what we agreed to talk about before I left, or something else?" Harm's stomach was turning negative Gs. He had no idea what was coming, but if the expression on Mac's face was any indication, it wasn't anything good.

"The same thing. I think… I hope." Mac was starting to stutter awkwardly.

"Mac, what is it?" Harm reached for her hand. It was as cold as ice. He thought she seemed uncomfortable, nervous, even edgy, but now he was worried about her. What was so difficult for her to tell him? She had to know there wasn't anything in this world she couldn't confide in him. "Talk to me, hon." His other hand gently reached for the side of her face.

Mac's heart melted to her toes at his loving tone and tender gesture. When his fingers gently stroked her cheek, she thought for sure she was going to melt into one large puddle. This was the right thing to do. She should have done this years ago, she scolded herself.

"Have I done something?" Harm tried to hide the fear in his voice. He wasn't sure what had her so nervous, but he didn't like it. He couldn't imagine what could be so serious to have her so unsettled. This was definitely not the way he had envisioned the evening playing out.

"No. It's me. As I started to say, I've been doing some thinking." The minute her words left her mouth she could see Harm stiffen fearfully. She knew he must be thinking of the old cliché, 'It's not you, it's me,' and that was NOT what she was trying to say. None of this was going the way she wanted. She was making such a mess of this. "Did you mean what you said that morning before you left? About liking it here?" she quickly added.

Harm could see the nervousness in her eyes growing exponentially as she waited with bated breath for his response. Suddenly he was filled with a ray of hope. Maybe this wasn't going to be bad news for him after all. Maybe they were both wanting the same thing and too scared to find out.

"Very much so." The hand that had caressed her cheek now rested on her lap, his fingers drawing lazy swirling motions on her robe. Anxiously, he waited to hear what else she wanted to say, to hear if his life and dreams were about to begin or end.

"Well, I liked having you here, too." Mac paused taking a deep breath. She couldn't remember ever being as nervous as she was right now. "I also… I missed you. A lot." She found the courage to look up into the eyes she had been avoiding. "I was hoping you would consider…staying."

Harm couldn't help letting his jaw drop before finding his tongue. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Stay?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, a very sexy whisper. It was time to storm the beach.

Harm swallowed hard. The low raspy tone of her voice just sent most of the blood in his brain flowing south. He wasn't completely sure what had just happened, and he had no idea if there was enough blood left in his brain to form a coherent thought. "I hate to sound like a total nitwit, but exactly what are you suggesting?" Harm's palms were beginning to sweat as Mac moved closer still. With her knee peeking out from under the robe, he was slowly coming to the realization that she didn't appear to have much on underneath.

"I'm asking you to please come and share my life. You did say you wanted to be a part of my life." Closing the short distance between them, Mac leaned in and nibbled gently on the side of Harm's chin. Her tongue delicately blazed a moist trail to the edge of his lips. "That you wanted me." She practically breathed the words into his mouth, teasing his lower lip playfully with her own. She was a marine. She could do this, she reminded herself.

Lord help him, he really wanted to discuss this with her. Did she just ask him stay for the night, or to live with her? Was this about commitment? She couldn't be talking about just sex. Though, at this moment, if all she wanted was one night, he doubted he could say no even if for some insane reason he'd want to. His brain was fighting to process her words, but the rest of him was fighting to control the fire her teasing tongue had ignited deep in his soul.

When her lips descended fully on his, all thoughts were lost. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, his hands gliding over the soft fabric of the shiny robe. Their mouths began a desperate dance of tangled tongues and caressing lips. One by one, Mac undid the tiny white buttons of his shirt, her fingers dipping inside and lightly twirling the short hair, then scratching his hard chest before continuing onto the next button.

Her touch was sending shooting flames to every region of his body. When he pushed the robe off one shoulder and felt nothing but bare skin, Harm was done. Pulling his mouth away frantically, he struggled to catch his breath.

"Oh, God, Mac…are you okay?" He suddenly wasn't sure if she was physically up to what he had in mind.

"Uh huh," she mumbled, shoving his now unbuttoned shirt away from his strong muscular chest.

"No, Mac, really?" Harm pulled back far enough to look into her eyes. Her dark, steamy eyes. Eyes so filled with desire and longing, he could feel them caressing his senses, igniting a fire he couldn't possibly control. Yet, he had to. He had to be sure. "You have to know what you're doing to me. I don't want you hurting. Are you sure?" Even though the things she was doing to him were driving him absolutely crazy with desire, he would be mortified if his hormones won out over common sense and he did anything to somehow reverse her recovery.

Running her fingers delicately across his cheek, her hand slid slowly past his chin to his shoulder and down his arm, grabbing his hand snugly in hers. She stood up from the sofa, and tugged lightly, her eyes smoldering with a heat of their own. "I'm really fine, and this is really what I want." Without waiting for him to respond, Mac turned and walked to her room, her robe still hanging loosely off one shoulder.

Harm followed her blindly. His heart was beating frantically, not just from the physical arousal, but from the depth of passion and love he thought he could read in her eyes. He wasn't sure what had just happened. When he'd left the carrier, he had every intention of telling her how much he wanted to share her life, how much he had treasured being able to wake up with her every morning the previous week. He wanted to somehow find the perfect words to ask her to make that living situation more permanent, but nowhere in his plans had he expected anything like this.


	4. Chapter 31 the end

**Chapter 31**

It took tremendous effort for Harm to open his eyes. He was definitely going to have to take more vitamins if he was going to keep this up. Why hadn't he and Mac gotten together ten years ago? He found himself barely able to open his eyes, and already his body was reacting to the realization that Mac was unceremoniously draped across his chest, her one hand leaning against his face, her other hand… well… someplace else.

Brushing her hair away from her face, Harm couldn't resist smiling at the memory of last night. He didn't know what had gotten into her, but he would be forever grateful that it had, whatever it was. Gently shifting Mac's weight to one side so he could see her face, he was delighted when he was rewarded with a bright smile.

"Good morning," Mac grinned more brightly.

"Back at you, beautiful." Harm leaned forward and kissed the top of her head.

"Do you want help packing?" Mac shifted further into the crook of his arm.

"Packing?" Harm wasn't completely awake yet. Well, at least not all of him.

"To stay." Mac pulled away and sat up to look Harm in the face more completely. When he didn't say a word, she unconsciously reached down and pulled the sheet up against her chest.

"You want me to stay?" Harm repeated softly.

"I thought we already covered this last night," Mac shrugged.

"No, last night you mentioned you wanted me in your life. Then you proceeded to seduce me with such military precision that if I were Napoleon, you'd be running my empire this morning." Harm picked up her hand and kissed it loudly.

"Harm, this is serious. I thought you understood. You said last week you didn't want to leave. I said last night I didn't want you to leave either. I thought it was settled." Mac was getting a little worried. Not that she would change anything about last night, but she had built up this whole new little world in her mind, and in it Harm was most definitely NOT merely an occasional bedmate.

"You're saying you want me to move in here? With you?" The magnitude of this conversation was suddenly becoming clear to him.

Biting her lower lip again, all Mac could do was nod her head yes.

Harm reached out and pulled Mac into his arms with such force he almost knocked the wind out of her. Before she could gasp for air, his lips had crashed down on hers, another tangle of emotions erupting in the morning light.

Her arms dropped the sheet she'd been holding between them and snaked around his neck, giving fully into this wonderful embrace. No longer craving air, but every inch of his body on hers, she slid her leg over his hips and straddled him. Pulling away from his lips, she began nibbling a fiery trail along his neck, somehow managing to mumble between kisses, "Does this mean yes?"

Pushing her away from his neck, Harm flipped Mac over onto her back. Leaning over her soft body, his face only inches away from hers, "No."

Mac's heart slammed to her stomach. "No?"

"No, it's not settled." Recognizing the fear in her eyes, Harm quickly continued. "What I mean is: will you marry me?" The words said, he held his breath. This wasn't the romantic setting in which he had always envisioned someday asking a woman, especially this woman, to marry him, but he was tired of being afraid to push. He didn't want to just live with Mac. He wanted her to be his wife, and to be her husband. He wanted it all, the entire package, with or without kids.

Mac stared at him incredulously. She had felt confident that she had read his signals correctly and he would want to move in, but she had never allowed herself to dream that all these years of dancing around their feelings would come to a head so quickly.

Nodding her head frantically, Mac struggled to make sound come out of her mouth. Batting away the tears of joy, a small voice whispered, "Yes."

She was unable to say anything more before he took her into his arms again, and as he had done so well the night before, showed her slowly and gently just how much he loved her. All of her: the scars, the burns… all of her.

When they were finally forced out of bed by an appetite for something more than each other, Harm found it almost impossible to keep his hands off of her.

Standing by the edge of the bed in nothing but his birthday suit, Harm helped Mac into her robe. Spinning her around, he kissed her nose. "I love you," he whispered as he dragged one finger from her chin down her throat, past the swell between her breasts and stopping along the edge of her scar. Spreading his hand flat across the expanse of the markedly pink flesh, he rubbed lightly and whispered again, "I love you."

Blushing from head to toe, Mac pulled back and tied her robe. "If you don't get some food in me soon, there's going to be a lot less of me to love," she teased. In reality she was incredibly relieved that all her scars hadn't mattered. She had pushed her fears to the back of her mind as she followed her battle plan, but still, the inevitable doubts had nibbled away, threatening to dissolve her resolve. His gentle attention to every inch of her body had convinced her completely of the veracity of his proclamations to her weeks ago. He really had wanted her in 'that' way.

Pulling on his boxers, Harm looked around. "We probably will want to consider getting a bigger place. I'm not sure much of my stuff will fit here."

"Sure it will!" Mac stepped around him and began opening empty drawers, then turned to her closet and flung the doors open. Half the closet was completely empty. "I made room for you," she grinned proudly.

"Pretty sure of yourself, weren't you?" Harm stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her stomach, nibbling at the base of her neck.

"I'd hoped," she admitted, her head dropping back against him.

Kissing her cheek soundly, "I'm glad," he smiled.

Anxious to start moving him in, Harm and Mac hurried through breakfast.

** Harm's apartment**

**Later that morning**

"I think you're right. There's no way I can get enough of this stuff into my place for you to feel at home." Mac sighed, tossing some of Harm's photos into a box.

"As long as we're together, I don't care about things." Harm had put down the clothes he was packing and walked over to Mac. "I love you, soon-to-be Mrs. Rabb. I don't care where we live, or what we have, so long as I have you."

Mac stared blankly at this man before her. "I can't believe we wasted so many years." With a heavy sigh, she dropped her head on his shoulder.

"I pretty much came to that same conclusion on the carrier. I had intended to bring up what I wanted for the rest of our lives, but I wasn't exactly planning for things to turn out quite the way they did." Placing a short kiss on Mac's head, Harm grinned impishly at the memory of last night. "I'm not sure what came over you, but I'm very glad it did."

Mac lifted her head and stepped back. "You mean who."

"Excuse me?" Harm wasn't too sure he was going to like the sound of this.

"Who got into me," Mac chuckled, "You owe last night to the General."

Harm's eyes opened wider than the moon. "At the risk of repeating myself… excuse me?"

Mac chuckled again, amused by the borderline horrified look on Harm's face. "In a nutshell, he told me if I wanted to get anywhere in our relationship, I was going to have to behave like a marine and 'storm the beach'. Your beach. That's why he gave you this morning off." Mac closed the lid on the box she'd been packing and reached for the tape.

"The General actually told you to storm my beach?"

"Yeah, that pretty much covers it." Mac smiled at him. "You'd better put this in the car. We've got to report to the office in less than two hours."

"He really said 'storm my beach?'" Harm was still somewhat dumbfounded.

"Yes." Mac was starting to lose patience. "Is something wrong?"

"Well, other than I'm not so sure how I feel about my CO being involved in the strategical planning of my seduction, I really do have to remember to thank that man." Harm pushed the box aside and pulled Mac into his arms. "How much time did you say we have before we need to report?" he whispered into her lips.

"Enough."

With that, the two new lovers christened Harm's apartment for the first, and last, time before moving into their own new world.

The End


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